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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00029633905 


DRIVEN  FROM  HOME 


OR 


CARL  CRAWFORD'S  EXPERIENCE 


BY 


HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr. 

Author  of  "Erie  Train  Boy,"  "Young  Acrobat" 

"Only  an  Irish  Boy,"  "Bound  to  Rise," 

"The   Young   Outlaw,"  "Hector's 

Inheritance"  etc. 


NEW   YORK 

HURST  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


ALGER  SERIES    FOR   BOYS. 

UNIFORM  WITH  THIS  VOLUME. 

By  HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr. 


Adrift  in  New  York. 

A  Cousin's  Conspiracy. 

Andy  Gordon. 

Andy  Grant's  Pluck. 

Bob  Burton. 

Bound  to  Rise. 

Brave  and  Bold. 

Cash  Boy. 

Chester  Rand 

Do  and  Dare. 

Driven  from  Home. 

Erie  Train  Boy. 

Facing  t  he  World. 

Five  Hundred  Dollars. 

Frank's  Campaign. 

Grit. 

Hector's  Inheritance. 

Helping  Himself. 

Herbert  Carter's  Legacy. 

In  a  New  World. 

Jack's  Ward. 

Jed,  the  Poor  House  Boy. 

Joe's  Luck. 

Julius,  the  Street  Boy. 

Luke  Walton. 


Making  His  Way. 
Mark  Mason. 
Only  an  Irish  Boy. 
Paul,  the  Peddler. 
Phil,  the  Fiddler. 
ARalph  Raymond's  Heir. 
Risen  from  the  Ranks. 
Sam's  Chance. 
Shifting  for  Himself. 
Sink  or  Swim. 
Slow  and  Sure. 
Store  Boy. 
Strive  and  Succeed. 
Strong  and  Steady. 
Struggling  Upward. 
Tin  Box. 

Tom,  the  Bootblack. 
Tony,  the  Tramp. 
Try  and  Trust. 
Wait  and  Hope. 
Walter  Sherwood's  Pro- 
bation. 
Young  Acrobat. 
Young  Adventurer. 
Young  Outlaw. 
Young  Salesman. 


Price,   Post-Paid,   jjc.   each,   or  any   three 
books  for  $1.00. 

HURST  &  COMPANY 
Publishers,  New  York. 


DRIVEN  FROM  HOME. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DRIVEN  FROM  HOME. 

A  boy  of  sixteen,  with  a  small  gripsack  in 
his  hand,  trudged  along  the  country  road.  He 
was  of  good  height  for  his  age,  strongly  built, 
and  had  a  frank,  attractive  face.  He  was  nat- 
urally of  a  cheerful  temperament,  but  at  pres- 
ent his  face  was  grave,  and  not  without  a  shade 
of  anxiety.  This  can  hardly  be  a  matter  of 
surprise  when  we  consider  that  he  was  thrown 
upon  his  own  resources,  and  that  his  available 
capital  consisted  of  thirty-seven  cents  in 
money,  in  addition  to  a  good  education  and 
a  rather  unusual  amount  of  physical  strength. 
These  last  two  items  were  certainly  valuable, 
but  they  cannot  always  be  exchanged  for  the 
necessaries  and  comforts  of  life. 

For  some  time  his  steps  had  been  lagging, 


2  Driven    from    Home. 

and  from  time  to  time  lie  had  to  wipe  the  mois- 
ture from  his  brow  with  a  fine  linen  handker- 
chief, which  latter  seemed  hardly  compatible 
with  his  almost  destitute  condition. 

I  hasten  to  introduce  my  hero,  for  such  he 
is  to  be,  as  Carl  Crawford,  son  of  Dr.  Paul 
Crawford,  of  Edgewood  Center.  Why  he  had 
set  out  to  conquer  fortune  single-handed  will 
soon  appear. 

A  few  rods  ahead  Carl's  attention  was 
drawn  to  a  wide-spreading  oak  tree,  with  a  car- 
pet of  verdure  under  its  sturdy  boughs. 

"I  will  rest  here  for  a  little  while,"  he  said 
to  himself,  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
threw  down  his  gripsack  and  flung  himself  on 
the  turf. 

"This  is  refreshing,"  he  murmured,  as,  lying 
upon  his  back,  he  looked  up  through  the  leafy 
rifts  to  the  sky  above.  "I  don't  know  when 
I  have  ever  been  so  tired.  It's  no  joke  walkiDg 
a  dozen  miles  under  a  hot  sun,  with  a  heavy 
gripsack  in  your  hand.  It's  a  good  introduc- 
tion to  a  life  of  labor,  which  I  have  reason  to 
believe  is  before  me.  I  wonder  how  I  am  com- 
ing out — at  the  big  or  the  little  end  of  the 
horn?" 

He  paused,  and  his  face  grew  grave,  for  he 
understood  well  that  for  him  life  had  become 
a  serious  matter.  In  his  absorption  he  did 
not  observe  the  rapid  approach  of  a  boy  some- 


Driven    from    Home.  3 

what  younger  than  himself,  mounted  on  a 
bicycle. 

The  boy  stopped  short  in  surprise,  and 
leaped  from  his  iron  steed. 

"Why,  Carl  Crawford,  is  this  you?  Where 
in  the  world  are  you  going  with  that  grip- 
sack?" 

Carl  looked  up  quickly. 

"Going  to  seek  my  fortune,"  he  answered, 
soberly. 

"Well,  I  hope  you'll  find  it.  Don't  chaff, 
though,  but  tell  the  honest  truth." 

"I  have  told  you  the  truth,  Gilbert." 

With  a  puzzled  look,  Gilbert,  first  leaning 
his  bicycle  against  the  tree,  seated  himself  on 
the  ground  by  Carl's  side. 

"Has  your  father  lost  his  property?"  he 
asked,  abruptly. 

"No." 

"Has  he  disinherited  you?" 

"Not  exactly." 

"Have  you  left  home  for  good?" 

"I  have  left  home — I  hope  for  good." 

"Have  you  quarreled  with  the  governor?" 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say  to  that.  There 
is  a  difference  between  us." 

"He  doesn't  seem  like  a  Roman  father — one 
who  rules  his  family  with  a  rod  of  iron." 

"No;  he  is  quite  the  reverse.  He  hasn't 
backbone  enough." 


£  Driven    from    Home. 

"So  it  seemed  to  me  when  I  saw  him  at  the 
exhibition  of  the  academy.  You  ought  to  be 
ab,le  to  get  along  with  a  father  like  that, 
Carl." 

"So  I  could  but  for  one  thiag." 

"What  is  that?" 

"I  have  a  stepmother!"  said  Carl,  with  a 
significant  glance  at  his  companion. 

"So  have  I,  but  she  is  the  soul  of  kindness, 
and  makes  our  home  the  dearest  place  in  the 
world." 

"Are  there  such  stepmothers?  I  shouldn't 
have  judged  so  from  my  own  experience." 

"I  think  I  love  her  as  much  as  if  she  were 
my  own  mother." 

"You  are  lucky,"  said  Carl,  sighing. 

"Tell  me  about  yours." 

"She  was  married  to  my  father  five  years 
ago.  Up  to  the  time  of  her  marriage  I  thought 
her  amiable  and  sweet-tempered.  But  soon- 
after  the  wedding  she  threwT  off  the  mask,  and 
made  it  clear  that  she  disliked  me.  One  rea- 
son is  that  she  has  a  son  of  her  own  about 
my  age,  a  mean,  sneaking  fellow,  who  is  the 
apple  of  her  eye.  She  has  been  jealous  of  me, 
and  tried  to  supplant  me  in  the  affection  of 
my  father,  wishing  Peter  to  be  the  favored 
«©n.» 

"How  has  she  succeeded?" 

"I  don't  think  my  father  feels  any  love  fop 


Driven   from    Home.  5 

Peter,  but  through  rny  stepmother's  influence 
he  generally  fares  better  than  I  do." 

"Why  wasn't  he  sent  to  school  with  you?" 

"Because  he  is  lazy  and  doesn't  like  study. 
Besides,  his  mother  prefers  to  have  him  at 
home.  During  my  absence  she  worked  upon 
my  father,  by  telling  all  sorts  of  malicious 
stories  about  me,  till  he  became  estranged  from 
me,  and  little  by  little  Peter  has  usurped  my 
place  as  the  favorite." 

"Why  didn't  you  deny  the  stories?"  asked 
Gilbert. 

"I  did,  but  no  credit  was  given  to  my  de- 
nials. My  stepmother  was  continually  poi- 
soning my  father's  mind  against  me." 

"Did  you  give  her  cause?  Did  you  behave 
disrespectfully  to  her?" 

"No,"  answered  Carl,  warmly.  "I  was  pre- 
pared to  give  her  a  warm  welcome,  and  treat 
her  as  a  friend,  but  nry  advances  were  so  coldly 
received  that  my  heart  was  chilled." 

"Poor  Carl!     How  long  has  this  been  so?" 

"From  the  beginning — ever  since  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford came  into  the  house." 

"What  are  jour  relations  with  your  step- 
brother— what's  his  name?" 

"Peter  Cook.  I  despise  the  boy,  for  he  is 
mean,  and  tyrannical  where  he  dares  to  be." 

"I  don't  think  it  would  be  safe  for  him  to 
bully  you,  Carl." 


6  Driven    from    Home. 

"He  tried  it,  and  got  a  good  thrashing.  You 
can  imagine  what  followed.  He  ran,  crying 
to  his  mother,  and  his  version  of  the  story  was 
believed.  I  was  confined  to  my  room  for  a 
week,  and  forced  to  live  on  bread  and  water." 

"I  shouldn't  think  your  father  was  a  man 
to  inflict  such  a  punishment." 

"It  wasn't  he — it  was  my  stepmother.  She 
insisted  upon  it,  and  he  yielded.  I  heard  after- 
wards from  one  of  the  servants  that  he  wanted 
me  released  at  the  end  of  twenty-four  hours, 
but  she  would  not  consent." 

"How  long  ago  was  this?" 

"It  happened  when  I  was  twelve." 

"Was  it  ever  repeated?" 

"Yes,  a  month  later;  but  the  punishment 
lasted  only  for  two  days." 

"And  you  submitted  to  it?" 

"I  had  to;  but  as  soon  as  I  was  released  I 
gave  Peter  such  a  flogging,  with  the  promise 
to  repeat  it,  if  I  was  ever  punished  in  that 
manner  again,  that  the  boy  himself  was  panic- 
stricken,  and  objected  to  my  being  imprisoned 
again." 

"He  must  be  a  charming  fellow !" 

"You  would  think  so  if  you  should  see  him. 
He  has  small,  insignificant  features,  a  turn- 
up nose,  and  an  ugly  scowl  that  appears  when- 
ever he  is  out  of  humor." 

"And  yet  your  father  likes  him?" 


Driven    from    Home.  7 

"I  don't  think  he  does,  though  Peter,  by  his 
mother's  orders,  pays  all  sorts  of  small  atten- 
tions— bringing  him  his  slippers,  running  on 
errands,  and  so  on,  not  because  he  likes  it,  but 
because  he  wants  to  supplant  me,  as  he  has  suc- 
ceeded in  doing." 

"You  have  finally  broken  away,  then?" 

"Yes;  I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer.  Home 
had  become  intolerable." 

"Pardon  the  question,  but  hasn't  your  father 
got  considerable  property?" 

"I  have  every  reason  to  think  so." 

"Won't  your  leaving  home  give  your  step- 
mother and  Peter  the  inside  track,  and  lead, 
perhaps,  to  your  disinheritance?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  answered  Carl,  wearily;  "but 
no  matter  what  happens,  I  can't  bear  to  stay 
at  home  any  longer." 

"You're  badly  fixed — that's  a  fact!"  said 
Gilbert,  in  a  tone  of  sympathy.  "What  are 
your  plans?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  haven't  had  time  to  think." 


Driveii   from    Home. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  FRIEND  WORTH  HAVING. 

Gilbert  wrinkled  up  his  forehead  and  set 
about  trying  to  form  some  plans  for  Carl. 

"It  will  be  hard  for  you  to  support  your- 
self," he  said,  after  a  pause;  "that  is,  without 
help." 

"There  is  no  one  to  help  me.  I  expect  no 
help." 

"I  thought  your  father  might  be  induced  to 
give  you  an  allowance,  so  that  with  what  you 
can  earn,  you  may  get  along  comfortably." 

"I  think  father  would  be  willing  to  do  this, 
but  my  stepmother  would  prevent  him." 

"Then  she  has  a  great  deal  of  influence  over 
him?" 

"Yes,  she  can  twist  him  round  her  little  fin- 
ger." 

"I  can't  understand  it." 

"You  see,  father  is  an  invalid,  and  is  verf 
nervous.  If  he  were  in  perfect  health  he  would 
have  more  force  of  character  and  firmness.    He 


Driven    from    Home.  9 

fe  under  the  impression  that  he  has  heart  dis- 
ease, and  it  makes  him  timid  and  vacillating." 

"Still  he  ought  to  do  something  for  you." 

"I  suppose  he  ought.  Still,  Gilbert,  I  think 
I  can  earn  my  living." 

"What  can  you  do?" 

"Well,  I  have  a  fair  education.  I  could  he 
an  entry  clerk,  or  a  salesman  in  some  store, 
or,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  I  could  work 
on  a  farm.  I  believe  farmers  give  boys  who 
work  for  them  their  board  and  clothes." 

"I  don't  think  the  clothes  would  suit  you." 

"I  am  pretty  well  supplied  with  clothing." 

Gilbert  looked  significantly  at  the  gripsack. 

"Do  you  carry  it  all  in  there?"  he  asked, 
doubtfully. 

Carl  laughed. 

"Well,  no,"  he  answered.  "I  have  a  trunk* 
ful  of  clothes  at  home,  though." 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  them  with  you?" 

"I  would  if  I  were  an  elephant.  Being  only 
a  boy,  I  would  find  it  burdensome  carrying  a 
trunk  with  me.  The  gripsack  is  all  I  can  very 
well  manage." 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  Gilbert.  "Come 
round  to  our  house  and  stay  overnight.  We 
live  only  a  mile  from  here,  you  know.  The 
folks  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  and  while  you 
are  there  I  will  go  to  your  house,  see  the  gov- 
ernor, and  arrange  for  an  allowance  for  you 


io  Driven    from   Home. 

that  will  make  you  comparatively  independ- 
ent." 

"Thank  you,  Gilbert;  but  I  don't  feel  like 
asking  favors  from  those  who  have  ill-treated 
me." 

"Nor  would  I — of  strangers;  but  Dr.  Craw- 
ford is  your  father.  It  isn't  right  that  Peter, 
your  stepbrother,  should  be  supported  in  ease 
and  luxury,  while  you,  the  real  son,  should 
be  subjected  to  privation  and  want." 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  admitted 
Carl,  slowly. 

"Of  course  I  am  right.  Now,  will  you  maka 
me  your  minister  plenipotentiary,  armed  with 
full  powers?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  will." 

"That's  right.  That  shows  you  are  a  boy 
of  sense.  Now,  as  you  are  subject  to  my  di- 
rections, just  get  on  that  bicycle  and  I  will 
carry  your  gripsack,  and  we  will  seek  Vance 
Villa,  as  we  call  it  when  we  want  to  be  high- 
toned,  by  the  most  direct  route." 

"No,  no,  Gilbert;  I  will  carry  my  own  grip- 
sack. I  won't  burden  you  with  it,"  said  Carl, 
rising  from  his  recumbent  position. 

"Look  here,  Carl,  how  far  have  you  walked 
With  it  this  morning?" 

"About  twelve  miles." 

"Then,  of  course,  you're  tired,  and  require 
rest.     Just  jump  on  that  bicycle,  and  I'll  take 


Driven    from    Home.  n 

the  gripsack.  If  you  have  carried  it  twelve 
miles,  I  can  surely  carry  it  one." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Gilbert." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be?" 

"But  it  is  imposing  upon  your  good  nature." 

But  Gilbert  had  turned  his  head  in  a  back- 
ward direction,  and  nodded  in  a  satisfied  way 
as  he  saw  a  light,  open  buggy  rapidly  ap- 
proaching. 

"There's  my  sister  in  that  carriage,"  he  said. 
"She  comes  in  good  time.  I  will  put  you  and 
your  gripsack  in  with  her,  and  I'll  take  to  my 
bicycle  again." 

"Your  sister  may  not  like  such  an  arrange- 
ment." 

"Won't  she  though!  She's  very  fond  of 
beaux,  and  she  will  receive  you  very  gra- 
ciously." 

"You  make  me  feel  bashful,  Gilbert." 

"You  won't  be  long.  Julia  will  chat  away 
to  you  as  if  she'd  known  you  for  fifty  years." 

"I  was  very  young  fifty  years  ago,"  said 
Carl,  smiling. 

"Hi,  there,  Jule!"  called  Gilbert,  waving  his 
hand. 

Julia  Vance  stopped  the  horse,  and  looked 
inquiringly  and  rather  admiringly  at  Carl, 
who  was  a  boy  of  fine  appearance. 

"Let  me  introduce  you  to  my  friend  and 
schoolmate,  Carl  Crawford." 


12  Driven  from  Home. 

Carl  took  off  his  hat  politely. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Mr.  Crawford,"  said  Julia,  demurely ;  "I  have 
often  heard  Gilbert  speak  of  you." 

"I  hope  he  said  nothing  bad  about  me,  Miss 
Vance." 

"You  may  be  sure  he  didn't.  If  he  should 
now — I  wouldn't  believe  him." 

"You've  made  a  favorable  impression,  Carl," 
said  Gilbert,  smiling. 

"I  am  naturally  prejudiced  against  boys — 
having  such  a  brother,"  said  Julia;  "but  it  is 
not  fair  to  judge  all  boys  by  him." 

"That  is  outrageous  injustice!"  said  Gil- 
bert ;  "but  then,  sisters  seldom  appreciate  their 
brothers." 

"Some  other  fellows'  sisters  may,"  said  Carl. 

"They  do,  they  do !" 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  vain,  conceited  boy, 
Mr.  Crawford  ?" 

"Of  course  you  know  him  better  than  I  do." 

"Come,  Carl;  it's  too  bad  for  you,  too,  to 
join  against  me.  However,  I  will  forget  and 
forgive.  Jule,  my  friend,  Carl,  has  accepted 
my  invitation  to  make  us  a  visit." 

"I  am  very  glad,  I  am  sure,"  said  Julia,  sin- 
cerely. 

"And  I  want  you  to  take  him  in,  bag  and 
baggage,  and  convey  him  to  our  palace,  while 
I  speed  thither  on  my  wheel," 


Driven    from    Home.  13 

"To  be  sure  I  will,  and  with  great  pleasure." 

"Can't  you  get  out  and  assist  Mm  into  the 
carriage,  Jule?" 

"Thank  3^011,"  said  Carl;  "but  though  I  am 
somewhat  old  and  quite  infirm,  I  think  I  can 
get  in  without  troubling  your  sister.  Are  you 
sure,  Miss  Vance,  you  won't  be  incommoded 
by  my  gripsack?" 

"Not  at  all." 

"Then  I  will  accept  your  kind  offer." 

In  a  trice  Carl  was  seated  next  to  Julia,  with 
his  valise  at  his  feet. 

"Won't  you  drive,  Mr.  Crawford?"  said  the 
young  lady. 

"Don't  let  me  take  the  reins  from  you." 

"I  don't  think  it  looks  well  for  a  lady  to 
drive  when  a  gentleman  is  sitting  beside 
her." 

Carl  was  glad  to  take  the  reins,  for  he  liked 
driving. 

"Now  for  a  race!"  said  Gilbert,  who  was 
mounted  on  his  bicycle. 

"All  right!"  replied  Carl.  "Look  out  for 
us!" 

They  started,  and  the  two  kept  neck  and 
neck  till  they  entered  the  driveway  leading 
up  to  a  handsome  country  mansion. 

Carl  followed  them  into  the  house,  and  was 
cordially  received  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vance, 
who  were  very  kind  and  hospitable,  and  were 


14  Driven   from    Home. 

favorably  impressed  by  the  gentlemanly  ap« 
pearance  of  their  son's  friend. 

Half  an  hour  later  dinner  was  announced, 
and  Carl,  having  removed  the  stains  of  travel 
in  his  schoolmate's  room,  descended  to  the  din- 
ing-room, and,  it  must  be  confessed,  did  am- 
ple justice  to  the  bounteous  repast  spread  be- 
fore him. 

In  the  afternoon  Julia,  Gilbert  and  he 
played  tennis,  and  had  a  trial  at  archery.  The 
hours  gl  ided  away  very  rapidly,  and  six  o'clock 
came  before  they  were  aware. 

"Gilbert,"  said  Carl,  as  they  were  preparing 
for  tea,  "you  have  a  charming  home." 

"You  have  a  nice  house,  too,  Carl." 

"True;  but  it  isn't  a  home — to  me.  There 
is  no  love  there." 

"That  makes  a  great  difference." 

"If  I  had  a  father  and  mother  like  yours 
I  should  be  happy." 

"You  must  stay  here  till  day  after  to-mor- 
row, and  I  will  devote  to-morrow  to  a  visit  in 
your  interest  to  your  home.  I  will  beard  the 
lion  in  his  den — that  is,  your  stepmother.  Do 
you  consent?" 

"Yes,  I  consent;  but  it  won't  do  any  good." 

"We  will  see." 


Driven    from    Home.  ijj 


CHAPTER  III. 

INTRODUCES  PETER  COOK. 

Gilbert  took  the  morning  train  to  the  town 
of  Edgewood  Center,  the  residence  of  the  Craw- 
fords.  He  had  been  there  before,  and  knew 
that  Carl's  home  was  nearly  a  mile  distant 
from  the  station.  Though  there  was  a  hack 
in  waiting,  he  preferred  to  walk,  as  it  would 
give  him  a  chance  to  think  over  what  he  pro- 
posed to  say  to  Dr.  Crawford  in  Carl's  behalf. 

He  was  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  his  des- 
tination when  his  attention  was  drawn  to  a 
boy  of  about  his  own  age,  who  was  amusing 
himself  and  a  smaller  companion  by  firing 
stones  at  a  cat  that  had  taken  refuge  in  a  tree. 
Just  as  Gilbert  came  up,  a  stone  took  effect, 
and  the  poor  cat  moaned  in  affright,  but  did 
not  dare  to  come  down  from  her  perch,  as  this 
would  put  her  in  the  power  of  her  assailant. 

''That  must  be  Carl's  stepbrother,  Peter," 
Gilbert  deckled,  as  he  noted  the  boy's  mean 
face  and  turn-up  nose.     "Atoning  cats  seems 


1 6  Driven    from    Home. 

to  be  his  idea  of  amusement.  I  shall  take  the 
liberty  of  interfering." 

Peter  Cook  laughed  heartily  at  his  success- 
ful aim. 

"J  hit  her,  Simon,"  he  said.  "Doesn't  she 
look  scared?" 

"You  must  have  hurt  her." 

"I  expect  I  did.  I'll  take  a  bigger  stone 
next  time." 

He  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and  picked 
up  a  rock  which,  should  it  hit  the  poor  cat, 
would  in  all  probability  kill  her,  and  prepared 
to  fire. 

"Put  down  that  rock!"  said  Gilbert,  indig* 
nantly. 

Peter  turned  quickly,  and  eyed  Gilbert  in- 
solently. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  demanded. 

"No  matter  who  I  am.  Put  down  that  rock !" 

"What  business  is  it  of  yours?" 

"I  shall  make  it  my  business  to  protect  that 
cat  from  your  cruelty." 

Peter,  who  was  a  natural  coward,  took  cour- 
age from  having  a  companion  to  back  him  up, 
and  retorted :  "You'd  better  clear  out  of  here, 
or  I  may  fire  at  you." 

"Do  it  if  you  dare !"  said  Gilbert,  quietly. 

Peter  concluded  that  it  would  be  wiser  not 
to  carry  out  his  threat,  but  was  resolved  to 
keep  to  his  original  purpose.     He  raised  hia 


Driven    from    Home.  17 

arm  again,  and  took  aim;  but  Gilbert  rushed 
in,  and  striking  his  arm  forcibly,  compelled 
him  to  drop  it. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  you  loafer?" 
demanded  Peter,  his  eyes  blazing  with  anger. 

"To  stop  your  fun,  if  that's  what  you  call  it.'" 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  give  you  a  thrashing." 

Gilbert  put  himself  in  a  position  of  defense. 

"Sail  in,  if  you  want  to!"  he  responded. 

"Help  me,  Simon !"  said  Peter.  "You  grab 
his  legs,  and  I'll  upset  him." 

Simon,  who,  though  younger,  was  braver 
than  Peter,  without  hesitation  followed  direc- 
tions. He  threw  himself  on  the  ground  and 
grasped  Gilbert  by  the  legs,  while  Peter,  dou- 
bling up  his  fists,  made  a  rush  at  his  enemy. 
But  Gilbert,  swiftly  eluding  Simon,  struck  out 
with  his  right  arm,  and  Peter,  unprepared  for 
so  forcible  a  defense,  tumbled  over  on  his  back, 
and  Simon  ran  to  his  assistance. 

Gilbert  put  himself  on  guard,  expecting  a 
second  attack;  but  Peter  apparently  thought 
it  wiser  to  fight  with  his  tongue. 

"You  rascal!"  he  shrieked,  almost  foaming 
at  the  mouth ;  "I'll  have  you  arrested." 

"What  for?"  asked  Gilbert,  coolly. 

"For  flying  at  me  like  a — a  tiger,  and  try- 
ing to  kill  me." 

Gilbert  laughed  at  this  curious  version  of 
things. 


1 8  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  thought  it  was  you  who  flew  at  me,"  he 
said. 

"What  business  had  you  to  interfere  with 
me?" 

"I'll  do  it  again  unless  you  give  up  firing 
stones  at  the  cat." 

"I'll  do  it  as  long  as  I  like." 

"She's  gone!"  said  Simon. 

The  boys  looked  up  into  the  tree,  and  could 
see  nothing  of  puss.  She  had  taken  the  op- 
portunity, when  her  assailant  was  otherwise 
occupied,  to  make  good  her  escape. 

"I'm  glad  of  it!"  said  Gilbert.  "Good-morn- 
ing, boys!  When  we  meet  again,  I  hope  you 
will  be  more  creditably  employed." 

"You  don't  get  off  so  easy,  you  loafer,"  said 
Peter,  who  saw  the  village  constable  approach- 
ing. "Here,  Mr.  Rogers,  I  want  you  to  ar- 
rest this  boy." 

Constable  Rogers,  who  was  a  stout,  broad- 
shouldered  man,  nearly  six  feet  in  height, 
turned  from  one  to  the  other,  and  asked: 
"What  has  he  done?" 

"He  knocked  me  over.  I  want  him  arrested 
for  assault  and  battery." 

"And  what  did  you  do?" 

"I?    I  didn't  do' anything." 

"That  is  rather  strange.  Young  man,  what 
is  your  name?" 

"Gilbert  Vance." 


Driven    from    Home.  19 

"You  don't  live  in  this  town?" 

"No;  I  live  in  Warren." 

"What  made  you  attack  Peter?" 

"Because  he  flew  at  me,  and  I  had  to  defend 
myself." 

"Is  this  so,  Simon?  You  saw  all  that  hap- 
pened." 

"Ye — es,"  admitted  Simon,  unwillingly. 

"That  puts  a  different  face  on  the  matter. 
I  don't  see  how  I  can  arrest  this  boy.  He  had 
a  right  to  defend  himself." 

"He  came  up  and  abused  me — the  loafer," 
said  Peter. 

"That  was  the  reason  you  went  at  him?" 

"Yes." 

"Have  you  anything  to  say?"  asked  the  con- 
stable, addressing  Gilbert. 

"Yes,  sir;  when  I  came  up  I  saw  this  boy 
firing  stones  at  a  cat,  who  had  taken  refuge 
in  that  tree  over  there.  He  had  just  hit  her, 
and  had  picked  up  a  larger  stone  to  fire  when 
I  ordered  him  to  drop  it." 

"It  was  no  business  of  yours,"  muttered 
Peter. 

"I  made  it  my  business,  and  will  again." 

"Did  the  cat  have  a  white  spot  on  her  fore- 
head?" asked  the  constable. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  was  mouse  colored?" 

"Yes.  sir." 


20  Driven    from    Home. 

"Why,  it's  my  little  girl's  cat.  She  would 
be  heartbroken  if  the  cat  were  seriously  hurt. 
You  young  rascal !"  he  continued,  turning  sud- 
denly upon  Peter,  and  shaking  him  vigorously. 
"Let  me  catch  you  at  this  business  again,  and 
I'll  give  you  such  a  warming  that  you'll  never 
want  to  touch  another  cat." 

"Let  me  go!"  cried  the  terrified  boy.  "I 
didn't  know  it  was  your  cat." 

"It  would  have  been  just  as  bad  if  it  had 
been  somebody  else's  cat.  I've  a  great  mind 
to  put  you  in  the  lockup." 

"Oh,  don't,  please  don't,  Mr.  Rogers!"  im- 
plored Peter,  quite  panic-stricken. 

"Will  you  promise  never  to  stone  another 
cat?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  go  about  your  business." 

Peter  lost  no  time,  but  scuttled  up  the  street 
with  his  companion. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  protecting 
Flora's  cat,"  then  said  the  constable  to  Gilbert. 

"You  are  quite  welcome,  sir.  I  won't  see 
any  animal  abused  if  I  can  help  it." 

"You  are  right  there." 

"Wasn't  that  boy  Peter  Cook?" 

"Yes.     Don't  you  know  him?" 

"No ;  but  I  know  his  stepbrother,  Carl." 

"A  different  sort  of  boy!  Have  you  come 
to  visit  him?" 


Driven    from    Home  21 

"No;  he  is  visiting  ine.  In  fact,  he  has  left 
home,  because  he  could  not  stand  his  step- 
mother's ill-treatment,  and  I  have  come  to  see 
his  father  in  his  behalf." 

"He  has  had  an  uncomfortable  home.  Dr. 
Crawford  is  an  invalid,  and  very  much  under 
the  influence  of  his  wife,  who  seems  to  have 
a  spite  against  Carl,  and  is  devoted  to  that 
young  cub  to  whom  you  have  given  a  lesson. 
Does  Carl  want  to  come  back?" 

"No;  he  wants  to  strike  out  for  himself,  but 
I  told  him  it  was  no  more  than  right  that  he 
should  receive  some  help  from  his  father." 

"That  is  true  enough.  For  nearly  all  the 
doctor's  money  came  to  him  through  Carl's 
mother." 

"I  am  afraid  Peter  and  his  mother  won't 
give  me  a  very  cordial  welcome  after  what  has 
happened  this  morning.  I  wish  I  could  see 
the  doctor  alone." 

"So  you  can,  for  there  he  is  coming  up  the 
street." 

Gilbert  looked  in  the  direction  indicated, 
and  his  glance  fell  on  a  thin,  fragile-looking 
man,  evidently  an  invalid,  with  a  weak,  un- 
decided face,  who  was  slowly  approaching. 

The  boy  advanced  to  meet  him,  and,  taking 
off  his  hat,  asked  politely :     "Is  this  Dr.  Craw 
ford?" 


22  Driven   from    Home. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AN   IMPORTANT   CONFERENCE. 

Dr.  Crawford  stopped  short,  and  ey&[  'Gil- 
bert attentively. 

"I  don't  know  you,"  he  said,  in  a  quemlous 
tone. 

"I  am  a  schoolmate  of  your  son,  Carl,.  My 
name  is  Gilbert  Vance." 

"If  you  have  come  to  see  my  son  yoa  will 
be  disappointed.  He  has  treated  me  in  a 
shameful  manner.  He  left  home  yesterday 
morning,  and  I  don't  know  where  he  is." 

"I  can  tell  you,  sir.  He  is  staying— £or  a 
day  or  two — at  my  father's  house." 

"Where  is  that?"  asked  Dr.  Crawford,  his 
manner  showing  that  he  was  confused. 

"In  Warren,  thirteen  miles  from  here." 

"I  know  the  town.  What  induced  Mm  to 
go  to  your  house?  Have  you  encouraged  him 
to  leave  home?"  inquired  Dr.  Crawford^  with 
a  look  of  displeasure. 

"No,  sir.  It  was  only  by  chance  that  I  met 
him  a  mile  from  our  home.  I  induced  him  to 
stay  overnight." 


Driven    from    Home.  23 

"Did  you  bring  me  any  message  from  him?" 

"No,  sir,  except  that  he  is  going  to  strike 
out  for  himself,  as  he  thinks  his  home  an  un- 
happy one." 

"That  is  his  own  fault.  He  has  had  enough 
to  eat  and  enough  to  wear.  He  has  had  as 
comfortable  a  home  as  yourself." 

"I  don't  doubt  that,  but  he  complains  that 
his  stepmother  is  continually  finding  fault 
with  him,  and  scolding  him." 

"He  provokes  her  to  do  it.  He  is  a  head- 
strong, obstinate  boy." 

"He  never  had  that  reputation  at  school,  sir. 
We  all  liked  him." 

"I  suppose  you  mean  to  imply  that  I  am  in 
fault?"  said  the  doctor,  warmly. 

"I  don't  think  you  know  how  badly  Mrs. 
Crawford  treats  Carl,  sir." 

"Of  course,  of  course.  That  is  always  said 
of  a  stepmother." 

"Not  always,  sir.  I  have  a  stepmother  my- 
self, and  no  own  mother  could  treat  me  bet- 
ter." 

"You  are  probably  a  better  boy." 

"I  can't  accept  ihe  compliment.  I  hope 
you'll  excuse  me  saying  it,  Dr.  Crawford,  but 
if  my  stepmother  treated  me  as  Carl  says  Mrs. 
Crawford  treats  him  I  wouldn't  stay  in  the 
house  another  day." 

"Keally,   this  is  very  annoying"  said  Dr. 


24  Driven   from   Home. 

Crawford,  irritably.  "Have  you  come  here 
from  Warren  to  say  this?" 

"No,  sir,  not  entirely." 

"Perhaps  Carl  wants  me  to  receive  him  back. 
I  will  do  so  if  he  promises  to  obey  his  step- 
mother." 

"That  he  won't  do,  I  am  sure." 

"Then  what  is  the  object  of  your  visit?" 

"To  say  that  Carl  wants  and  intends  to  earn 
his  own  living.  But  it  is  hard  for  a  boy  of 
his  age,  who  has  never  worked,  to  earn  enough 
at  first  to  pay  for  his  board  and  clothes.  He 
asks,  or,  rather,  I  ask  for  him,  that  you  will 
allow  him  a  small  sum,  say  three  or  four  dol- 
lars a  week,  which  is  considerably  less  than 
he  must  cost  you  at  home,  for  a  time  until  he 
gets  on  his  feet." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dr.  Crawford,  in  a 
vacillating  tone.  "I  don't  think  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford would  approve  this." 

"It  seems  to  me  you  are  the  one  to  decide, 
as  Carl  is  your  own  son.  Peter  must  cost  you 
a  good  deal  more." 

"Do  you  know  Peter?" 

"I  have  met  him,"  answered  Gilbert,  with 
a  slight  smile. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  say.  You  may  be 
right.     Peter  does  cost  me  more." 

"And  Carl  is  entitled  to  be  treated  as  well 
an  he." 


Driven    from    Home.  25 

"I  think  I  ought  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Crawford 
about  it.  And,  by  the  way,  I  nearly  forgot 
to  say  that  she  charges  Carl  with  taking  money 
from  her  bureau  drawer  before  he  went  away. 
It  was  a  large  sum,  too — twenty-five  dollars." 

"That  is  false!''  exclaimed  Gilbert,  indig- 
nantly. "I  am  surprised  that  you  should  be- 
lieve such  a  thing  of  your  own  son." 

"Mrs.  Crawford  says  she  has  proof,"  said 
the  doctor,  hesitating. 

"Then  what  has  he  done  with  the  money? 
I  know  that  he  has  but  thirty-seven  cents  with 
him  at  this  time,  and  he  only  left  home  yes- 
terday. If  the  money  has  really  been  taken, 
I  think  I  know  who  took  it." 

"Who?" 

"Peter  Cook.  He  looks  mean  enough  for 
anything." 

"What  right  have  you  to  speak  so  of  Peter?" 

"Because  I  caught  him  stoning  a  cat  this 
morning.  He  would  have  killed  the  poor 
thing  if  I  had  not  interfered.  I  consider  that 
worse  than  taking  money." 

"I — I  don't  know  what  to  say.  I  can't  agree 
to  anything  till  I  hare  spoken  writh  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford. Did  you  say  that  Carl  had  but  thirty- 
seven  cents?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  presume  you  don't  want  him  to 
starve?" 

"No,  of  course  not.     He  is  my  son,  though 


26  Driven    from    Home, 

he  lias  behaved  badly.  Here,  give  him  that!" 
and  Dr.  Crawford  drew  a  ten -dollar  bill  from 
his  wallet,  and  handed  it  to  Gilbert. 

"Thank  you,  sir.  This  money  will  be  very 
useful.  Besides,  it  will  show  Carl  that  his 
father  is  not  wholly  indifferent  to  him." 

"Of  course  not.  Who  says  that  I  am  a  bad 
father?"  asked  Dr.  Crawford,  peevishly. 

"I  don't  think,  sir,  there  would  be  any  dif- 
ficulty between  you  and  Carl  if  you  had  not 
married  again." 

"Carl  has  no  right  to  vex  Mrs.  Crawford. 
Besides,  he  can't  agree  with  Peter." 

"Is  that  his  fault  or  Peter's?"  asked  Gil- 
bert, significantly. 

"I  am  not  acquainted  with  the  circum- 
stances, but  Mrs.  Crawford  says  that  Carl  is 
always  bullying  Peter." 

"He  never  bullied  anyone  at  school." 

"Is  there  anything  else  you  want?" 

"Yes,  sir;  Carl  only  took  away  a  little  un- 
derclothing in  a  gripsack.  He  would  like  his 
woolen  clothes  put  in  his  trunk,  and  to  have 
it  sent " 

"Where?" 

"Perhaps  it  had  better  be  sent  to  my  house. 
There  are  one  or  two  things  in  his  room  also 
that  he  asked  me  to  get." 

"Why  didn't  he  come  himself?" 

"Because  he  thought  it  would  be  unpleasant 


Driven    from    Home.  27 

for  him  to  meet  Mrs.  Crawford.  They  would 
be  sure  to  quarrel." 

"Well,  perhaps  he  is  right,"  said  Dr.  Craw- 
ford, with  an  air  of  relief.  "About  the  al- 
lowance, I  shall  have  to  consult  my  wife.  Will 
you  come  with  me  to  the  house?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  should  like  to  have  the  matter 
settled  to-day,  so  that  Carl  will  know  what 
to  depend  upon." 

Gilbert  rather  dreaded  the  interview  he  was 
likely  to  have  with  Mrs.  Crawford ;  but  he  was 
acting  for  Carl,  and  his  feelings  of  friendship 
were  strong. 

So  he  walked  beside  Dr.  Crawford  till  they 
reached  the  tasteful  dwelling  occupied  as  a 
residence  by  Carl  and  his  father. 

"How  happy  Carl  could  be  here,  if  he  had 
a  stepmother  like  mine,"  Gilbert  thought. 

They  went  up  to  the  front  door,  which  was 
opened  for  them  by  a  servant. 

"Jane,  is  Mrs.  Crawford  in?"  asked  the  doc- 
tor. 

"No,  sir ;  not  just  now.  She  went  to  the  vil- 
lage to  do  some  shopping." 

"Is  Peter  in?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Then  you  will  have  to  wait  till  they  re- 
turn." 

"Can't  I  go  up  to  Carl's  room  and  be  pack- 
ing his  things?" 


28  Driven    from    Home. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  may.  I  don't  think  Mrs. 
"Crawford  would  object." 

"Good  heavens!  Hasn't  the  man  a  mind  of 
his  own?"  thought  Gilbert. 

"Jane,  you  may  show  this  young  gentleman 
up  to  Master  Carl's  room,  and  give  him  the 
key  of  his  trunk.  He  is  going  to  pack  his 
clothes." 

"When  is  Master  Carl  coming  back?"  asked 
Jane. 

"I — I  don't  know.  I  think  he  will  be  away 
for  a  time." 

"I  wish  it  was  Peter  instead  of  him,"  said 
Jane,  in  a  low  voice,  only  audible  to  Gil- 
bert. 

She  showed  Gilbert  the  way  upstairs,  w7hile 
the  doctor  went  to  his  study. 

"Are  you  a  friend  of  Master  Carl's?"  asked 
Jane,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone. 

"Yes,  Jane." 

"And  where  is  he?" 

"At  my  house." 

"Is  he  goin'  to  stay  there?" 

"For  a  short  time.  He  wants  to  go  out  into 
the  world  and  make  his  own  living." 

"And  no  wonder — poor  boy !  It's  hard  times 
he  had  here." 

"Didn't  Mrs.  Crawford  treat  him  well?" 
asked  Gilbert,  with  curiosity. 

"Is  it  trate  him  well?    She  was  a-jawin'  an' 


Driven    from    Home.  29 

a-jawin'  him  from  mornin'  till  night.  Ugh, 
but  she's  an  ugly  er'atur' !" 

"How  about  Peter?" 

"He's  just  us  naa — the  m  anest  bye  I  iver 
set  eyes  on.  It  would  do  me  good  to  see  him 
flogged." 

She  chatted  a  little  longer  with  Gilbert,  help- 
ing him  to  find  Carl's  clothes,  when  suddenly 
a  shrill  voice  was  heard  calling  her  from  be- 
low. 

"Shure,  it's  the  madam!"  said  Jane,  shrug- 
ging her  shoulders.  "I  expect  she's  in  a  tem- 
per;" and  she  rose  from  her  knees  and  hur- 
ried downstairs. 


fyj  Driven    from    Home. 


CHAPTER  V. 
carl's    stepmother. 

Five  minutes  later,  a«  Gilbert  was  closing 
the  trunk,  Jane  reappeared. 

"The  doctor  and  Mrs.  Crawford  would  like 
to  see  you  downstairs,"  she  said. 

Gilbert  followed  Jane  into  the  library,  where 
Dr.  Crawford  and  his  wife  were  seated.  He 
looked  with  interest  at  the  womau  who  had 
made  home  so  disagreeable  to  Carl,  and  was  in- 
stantly prejudiced  against  her.  She  was  light 
complexioned,  with  very  light-brown  hair, 
cold,  gray  eyes,  and  a  disagreeable  expression 
which  seemed  natural  to  her. 

"My  dear,"  said  the  doctor,  "this  is  the 
young  man  who  has  come  from  Carl." 

Mrs.  Crawford  surveyed  Gilbert  with  an 
expression  by  no  means  friendly. 

"What  is  your  name?"  she  asked. 

"Gilbert  Vance." 

"Did  Carl  Crawford  send  you  here?" 

"No ;  I  volunteered  to  come." 

"Did  he  tell  you  that  he  was  disobedient  and 
disrespectful  to  me?" 


Driven    from    Home.  31 

"No;  he  told  me  that  you  treated  him  so 
badly  that  he  was  unwilling  to  live  in  the 
same  house  with  you,"  answered  Gilbert, 
boldly. 

"Well,  upon  my  word!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Crawford,  fanning  herself  vigorously.  "Dr. 
Crawford,  did  you  hear  that?" 

"Yes." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"Well,  I  think  you  may  have  been  too  hard 
upon  Carl." 

"Too  hard?  Why,  then,  did  he  not  treat 
me  respectfully?  This  boy  seems  inclined  to 
be  impertinent." 

"I  answered  your  questions,  madam,"  said 
Gilbert,  coldly. 

"I  suppose  you  side  with  your  friend  Carl?" 

"I  certainly  do." 

Mrs.  Crawford  bit  her  lip. 

"What  is  the  object  of  your  coming?  Does 
Carl  wish  to  return?" 

"I  thought  Dr.  Crawford  might  have  told 
you." 

"Carl  wants  his  clothes  sent  to  him,"  said 
the  doctor.     "He  only  carried  a  few  with  him." 

"I  shall  not  consent  to  it.  He  deserves  no 
favors  at  our  hands." 

This  was  too  much  even  for  Dr.  Crawford. 

"You  go  too  far,  Mrs.  Crawford,"  he  said. 
"I  am  sensible  of  the  boy's  faults,  but  I  cer- 


32  Driven    from    Home. 

tamly  will  not  allow  his  clothes  to  be  with- 
*  held  from  him." 

"Oh,  well!  spoil  him  if  you  choose!"  said  the 
lady,  sullenly.  "Take  his  part  against  your 
wife!" 

"I  have  never  done  that,  but  I  will  not  al- 
low him  to  be  defrauded  of  his  clothes." 

"I  have  no  more  to  say,"  said  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford, her  eyes  snapping.  She  was  clearly  mor- 
tified at  her  failure  to  carry  her  point. 

"Do  you  wish  the  trunk  to  be  sent  to  your 
house?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  sir;  I  have  packed  the  clothes  and 
locked  the  trunk." 

"I  should  like  to  examine  it  before  it  goes," 
put  in  Mrs.  Crawford,  spitefully. 

"Why?" 

"To  make  sure  that  nothing  has  been  put 
in  that  does  not  belong  to  Carl." 

"Do  you  mean  to  accuse  me  of  stealing, 
tnadam?"  demanded  Gilbert,  indignantly. 

Mrs.  Crawford  tossed  her  head. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  you,"  she  re- 
plied. 

"Dr.  Crawford,  am  I  to  open  the  trunk?" 
asked  Gilbert. 

"No,"  answered  the  doctor,  with  unwonted 
decision. 

"I  hate  that  boy!  He  has  twice  subjected 
me  to  mortification,"  thought  Mrs.  Crawford. 


Driven    from    Home.  33 

"You  know  very  well,"  she  said,  turning  to 
Her  husband,  "that  I  have  grounds  for  my  re- 
quest. I  blush  to  mention  it,  but  I  have  rea- 
son to  believe  that  your  son  took  a  wallet  con- 
taining twenty-five  dollars  from  my  bureau 
drawer." 

"I  deny  it !"  said  Gilbert. 

"What  do  you  know  about  it,  I  should  like 
to  ask?"  sneered  Mrs.  Crawford. 

"I  know  that  Carl  is  an  honorable  boy,  in- 
capable of  theft,  and  at  this  moment  has  but 
thirty-seven  cents  in  his  possession." 

"So  far  as  you  know." 

"If  the  money  has  really  disappeared, 
madam,  you  had  better  ask  your  own  boy  about 
it." 

"This  is  insufferable !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford, her  light  eyes  emitting  angry  flashes. 
"Who  dares  to  say  that  Peter  took  the  wal- 
let?" she  went  on,  rising  to  her  feet. 

There  was  an  unexpected  reply.  Jane  en- 
tered the  room  at  this  moment  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion. 

"I  say  so,  ma'am,"  she  rejoined. 

"What?"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Crawford,  with 
startling  emphasis. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  say  anything  about  it  till 
I  found  you  were  charging  it  on  Master  Carl. 
I  saw  Peter  open  your  bureau  drawer,  take 
out  the  wallet,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket-" 


34  Driven    from    Home. 

"It's  a  lie !"  said  Mrs.  Crawford,  hoarsely. 

"It's  the  truth,  though  I  suppose  you  don't 
want  to  believe  it.  If  you  want  to  know  what 
he  did  with  the  money  ask  him  how  much  he 
paid  for  the  gold  ring  he  bought  of  the  jeweler 
down  at  the  village." 

"You  are  a  spy — a  base,  dishonorable  spy!" 
cried  Mrs.  Crawford. 

"I  won't  say  what  you  are,  ma'am,  to  bring 
false  charges  against  Master  Carl,  and  I  won- 
der the  doctor  will  believe  them." 

"Leave  the  house  directly,  you  hussy!" 
shrieked  Mrs.  Crawford. 

"If  I  do,  I  wonder  who'll  get  the  dinner?" 
remarked  Jane,  i    '  at  all  disturbed. 

"I  won't  stay  here  to  be  insulted,"  said  the 
angry  lady.  "Dr.  Crawford,  you  might  have 
spirit  enough  to  defend  your  wife." 

She  flounced  out  of  the  room,  not  waiting 
for  a  reply,  leaving  the  doctor  dazed  and  flur- 
ried. 

"I  hope,  sir,  you  are  convinced  now  that  Carl 
did  not  take  Mrs.  Crawford's  money,"  said 
Gilbert.     "I  told  you  it  was  probably  Peter." 

"Are  you  sure  of  what  you  said,  Jane?" 
asked  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  saw  Peter  take  the  wallet  with 
my  own  eyes." 

"It  is  his  mother's  money,  and  they  must 
settle  it  between  them.     I  am  glad  Carl  did 


Driven    from    Home.  35 

not  take  it.  Really,  this  lias  been  a  very  un- 
pleasant scene." 

"I  am  sorry  for  my  part  in  it.  Carl  is  my 
friend,  and  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  stand  up  for 
his  rights,"  remarked  Gilbert. 

"Certainly,  certainly,  that  is  right.  But 
you  see  how  I  am  placed." 

"I  see  that  this  is  no  place  for  Carl.  If  you 
will  allow  me,  I  will  send  an  expressman  for 
the  trunk,  and  take  it  with  me  to  the  station." 

"Yes,  I  see  no  objection.  I — I  would  invife 
you  to  dinner,  but  Mrs.  Crawford  seems  to  be 
suffering  from  a  nervous  attack,  and  it  might 
not  be  pleasant." 

"I  agree  with  you,  sir." 

Just  then  Peter  entered  the  room,  and  looked 
at  Gilbert  with  surprise  and  wrath,  remem- 
bering his  recent  discomfiture  at  the  hands  of 
the  young  visitor. 

"My  stepson,  Peter,"  announced  Dr.  Craw- 
ford. 

"Peter  and  I  have  met  before,"  said  Gilbert, 
smiling. 

"What  are  you  here  for?"  asked  Peter, 
rudely. 

"Not  to  see  you,"  answered  Gilbert,  turn- 
ing from  him. 

"My  mother'll  have  something  to  say  to  you," 
went  on  Peter,  significantly. 

"She  will  have  something  to  say  to  you," 


36  Driven    from    Home. 

retorted  Gilbert.  "She  has  found  out  who 
stole  her  money." 

Peter's  face  turned  scarlet  instantly,  and  he 
left  the  room  hurriedly. 

"Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  said  that,  Drc 
Crawford,"  added  Gilbert,  apologetically,  "but 
I  dislike  that  boy  very  much,  and  couldn't 
help  giving  him  as  good  as  he  sent." 

"It  is  all  very  unpleasant,"  responded  Dr. 
Crawford,  peevishly.  "I  don't  see  why  I  can't 
live  in  peace  and  tranquillity." 

"I  won't  intrude  upon  you  any  longer,"  said 
Gilbert,  "if  you  will  kindly  tell  me  whether 
you  will  consent  to  make  Carl  a  small  weekly 
allowance." 

"I  can't  say  now.  I  want  time  to  think. 
Give  me  your  address,  and  I  will  write  to  Carl 
in  your  care." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

Gilbert  left  the  house  and  made  arrange- 
ments to  have  Carl's  trunk  called  for.  It  ac- 
companied him  on  the  next  train  to  Warren. 


Driven   from   Home.  37 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MRS.  CRAWFORD'S  LETTER. 

"How  did  you  like  my  stepmother?"  asked 
Carl,  when  Gilbert  returned  in  the  afternoon. 

"She's  a  daisy!"  answered  Gilbert,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  "I  don't  think  I  ever  saw 
a  more  disagreeable  woman." 

"Do  you  blame  me  for  leaving  home?" 

"I  only  wonder  you  have  been  able  to  stay 
so  long.  I  had  a  long  conversation  with  your 
father." 

"Mrs.  Crawford  has  made  a  different  man 
of  him.  I  should  have  no  trouble  in  getting 
along  with  him  if  there  was  no  one  to  come 
between  us." 

"He  gave  me  this  for  you,"  said  Gilbert,  pro- 
ducing the  ten-dollar  bill. 

"Did  my  stepmother  know  of  his  sending 
it?" 

"No ;  she  was  opposed  to  sending  your  trunk, 
but  your  father  said  emphatically  you  should 
have  it." 


38  Driven-  from    Home. 

"I  am  glad  he  showed  that  much  spirit." 

"I  have  some  hopes  that  he  will  make  you 
an  allowance  of  a  few  dollars  a  week." 

"That  would  make  me  all  right,  but  I  don't 
expect  it." 

"You  will  probably  hear  from  your  father 
to-morrow  or  next  day,  so  you  will  have  to 
make  yourself  contented  a  little  longer." 

"I  hope  you  are  not  very  homesick,  Mr.  Craw- 
ford?" said  Julia,  coquettishly. 

"I  would  ask  nothing  better  than  to  stay 
here  permanently,"  rejoined  Carl,  earnestly. 
"This  is  a  real  home.  I  have  met  with  more 
kindness  here  than  in  six  months  at  my  own 
home." 

"You  have  one  staunch  friend  at  home," 
said  Gilbert. 

"You  don't  allude  to  Peter?" 

"So  far  as  I  can  judge,  he  hates  you  like 
poison.     I  mean  Jane." 

"Yes,  Jane  is  a  real  friend.  She  has  been 
in  the  family  for  ten  years.  She  was  a  favor- 
ite with  my  own  mother,  and  feels  an  inter- 
est in  me." 

"By  the  way,  your  stepmother's  charge  that 
you  took  a  wallet  containing  money  from  her 
drawer  has  been  disproved  by  Jane.  She  saw 
Peter  abstracting  the  money,  and  so  informed 
Mrs.  Crawford." 

"I  am  not  at  all  surprised.    Peter  is  meat 


Driven    from    Home.  39 

enough  to  steal  or  do  anything  else.  What 
did  my  stepmother  say?" 

"She  was  very  angry,  and  threatened  to  dis- 
charge Jane;  but,  as  no  one  would  be  left  to 
attend  to  the  dinner,  I  presume  she  is  likely 
to  stay." 

"I  ought  to  be  forming  some  plan,"  said  Carl, 
thoughtfully. 

"Wait  till  you  hear  from  home.  Julia  will 
see  that  your  time  is  well  filled  up  till  then. 
Dismiss  all  care,  and  enjoy  yourself  while  you 
may." 

This  seemed  to  be  sensible  advice,  and  Carl 
followed  it.  In  the  evening  some  young  peo- 
ple were  invited  in,  and  there  was  a  round  of 
amusements  that  made  Carl  forget  that  he  was 
an  exile  from  home,  with  very  dubious  pros- 
pects. 

"You  are  all  spoiling  me,"  he  said,  as  Gil- 
bert and  he  went  upstairs  to  bed.  "I  am  be- 
ginning to  understand  the  charms  of  home.  To 
go  out  into  the  world  from  here  will  be  like 
taking  a  cold  shower  bath." 

"Never  forget,  Carl,  that  you  will  be  wel- 
come back,  whenever  you  feel  like  coming," 
said  Gilbert,  laying  his  hand  affectionately  on 
Carl's  shoulder.     "We  all  like  you  here." 

"Thank  you,  old  fellow!  I  appreciate  the 
kindness  I  have  received  here;  but  I  must  strike 
out  for  myself," 


*j.c>  Driven   from    Home. 

"How  do  you  feel  about  it,  Carl  ?" 

"I  hope  for  the  best.  I  am  young,  strong 
and  willing  to  work.  There  must  be  an  open- 
ing for  me  somewhere." 

The  next  morning,  just  after  breakfast,  a 
setter  arrived  for  Carl,  mailed  at  Edgewood 
Center. 

"Is  it  from  your  father?"  asked  Gilbert. 

"No;  it  is  in  the  handwriting  of  my  step- 
mother. I  can  guess  from  that  that  it  con- 
tains no  good  news." 

He  opened  the  letter,  and  as  he  read  it  his 
face  expressed  disgust  and  annoyance. 

"Read  it,  Gilbert,"  he  said,  handing  him  the 
open  sheet. 

This  was  the  missive: 

"Carl  Crawford: — As  your  father  has  a 
nervous  attack,  brought  on  by  your  miscon- 
duct, he  has  authorized  me  to  write  to  you. 
As  you  are  but  sixteen,  he  could  send  for  you 
and  have  you  forcibly  brought  back,  but  deems 
it  better  for  you  to  follow  your  own  course 
and  suffer  the  punishment  of  your  obstinate 
and  perverse  conduct.  The  boy  whom  you 
sent  here  proved  a  fitting  messenger.  He 
seems,  if  possible,  to  be  even  worse  than  your- 
self. He  was  very  impertinent  to  me,  and  made 
a  brutal  and  unprovoked  attack  on  my  poor 
boy,  Peter,  whose  devotion  to  your  father  and 


Driven    from    Home.  41 

myself   forms  an   agreeable  contrast   to  your 
studied  disregard  of  our  wishes. 

"Your  friend  had  the  assurance  to  ask  for 
a  weekly  allowance  for  you  while  a  voluntary 
exile  from  the  home  where  you  have  been  only 
too  well  treated.  In  other  words,  you  want 
to  be  paid  for  your  disobedience.  Even  if  your 
father  were  weak  enough  to  think  of  comply- 
ing with  this  extraordinary  request,  I  should 
do  my  best  to  dissuade  him." 

"Small  doubt  of  that!"  said  Carl,  bitterly. 

"In  my  sorrow  for  your  waywardness,  I  am 
comforted  by  the  thought  that  Peter  is  too 
good  and  conscientious  ever  to  follow  your  ex- 
ample. While  you  are  away,  he  will  do  his 
utmost  to  make  up  to  your  father  for  his  dis- 
appointment in  you.  That  you  may  grow  wise 
in  time,  and  turn  at  length  from  the  error  of 
your  ways,  is  the  earnest  hope  of  your  step- 
mother, An  astasia  Crawford.  " 

"It  makes  me  sick  to  read  such  a  letter  as 
that,  Gilbert,"  said  Carl.  "And  to  have  that 
sneak  and  thief — as  lie  turned  out  to  be — Peter, 
set  up  as  a  model  for  me,  is  a  little  too  much." 

"I  never  knew  there  were  such  women  in  the 
wrorld!"  returned  Gilbert.  "I  can  understand 
your  feelings  perfectly,  after  my  interview  of 
yesterday." 


42  Driven    from    Home. 

"She  thinks  even  worse  of  you  than  of  me," 
said  Carl,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"I  have  no  doubt  Peter  shares  her  senti- 
ments. I  didn't  make  many  friends  in  your 
family,  it  must  be  confessed." 

"You  did  me  a  service,  Gilbert,  and  I  shall 
not  soon  forget  it." 

"Where  did  your  stepmother  come  from?" 
asked  Gilbert,  thoughtfully. 

"I  don't  know.  My  father  met  her  at  some 
summer  resort.  She  was  staying  in  the  same 
boarding  house,  she  and  the  angelic  Peter.  She 
lost  no  time  in  setting  her  cap  for  my  father, 
who  was  doubtless  reported  to  her  as  a  man 
of  property,  and  she  succeeded  in  capturing 
him." 

"I  wonder  at  that.  She  doesn't  seem  very 
fascinating." 

"She  made  herself  very  agreeable  to  my  fa- 
ther, and  was  even  affectionate  in  her  man- 
ner to  me,  though  I  couldn't  get  to  like  her. 
The  end  was  that  she  became  Mrs.  Crawford. 
Once  installed  in  our  house,  she  soon  threw 
off  the  mask  and  showed  herself  in  her  true 
colors,  a  cold-hearted,  selfish  and  disagreeable 
woman." 

"I  wonder  your  father  doesn't  recognize  her 
for  what  she  is." 

"She  is  very  artful,  and  is  politic  enough  to 
treat  him  well.     She  has  lost  no  opportunity 


Driven    from    Home.  43 

of  prejudicing  him  against  me.  If  he  were 
not  an  invalid  she  would  find  her  task  more 
difficult." 

"Did  she  have  any  property  when  your  fa* 
ther  married  her?" 

"Not  that  I  have  been  able  to  discover.  She 
is  scheming  to  have  my  father  leave  the  lion's 
share  of  his  property  to  her  and  Peter.  I  dare 
say  she  will  succeed." 

"Let  us  hope  your  father  will  live  till  you 
are  a  young  man,  at  least,  and  better  able  to 
cope  with  her." 

"I  earnestly  hope  so." 

"Your  father  is  not  an  old  man." 

"He  is  fifty-one,  but  he  is  not  strong.  I  be- 
lieve he  has  liver  complaint.  At  any  rate, 
I  know  that  when,  at  my  stepmother's  instiga- 
tion, he  applied  to  an  insurance  company  to 
insure  his  life  for  her  benefit,  the  application 
was  rejected." 

"You  don't  know  anything  of  Mrs.  Craw> 
ford's  antecedents?" 

"No." 

"What  was  her  name  before  she  married 
your  father?" 

"She  was  a  Mrs.  Cook.  That,  as  you  know, 
is  Peter's  name." 

"Perhaps,  in  your  travels,  you  may  learn 
something  of  her  history." 

"I  should  like  to  do  so." 


44  Driven    from    Home. 

"You  won't  leave  us  to-morrow?" 

"I  must  go  to-day.  I  know  now  that  I  must 
depend  wholly  upon  my  own  exertions,  and 
I  must  get  to  work  as  soon  as  possible." 

"You  will  write  to  me,  Carl?" 

"Yes,  when  I  have  anything  agreeable  to 
write." 

"Let  us  hope  that  will  be  soon." 


Driven   from    Home.  45 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ENDS     IN     A     TEAGEDY. 

Carl  obtained  permission  to  leave  his  trunk 
at  the  Vance  mansion,  merely  taking  out  what 
he  absolutely  needed  for  a  change. 

"When  I  am  settled  I  will  send  for  it,"  he 
said.  "Now  I  shouldn't  know  what  to  do  with 
it." 

There  were  cordial  good-bys,  and  Carl 
started  once  more  on  the  tramp.  He  might, 
indeed,  have  traveled  by  rail,  for  he  had  ten 
dollars  and  thirty-seven  cents;  but  it  occurred 
to  him  that  in  walking  he  might  meet  with 
some  one  who  would  give  him  employment.  Be- 
sides, he  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  get  on,  nor  had 
he  any  definite  destination.  The  day  was  fine, 
there  was  a  light  breeze,  and  he  experienced 
a  hopeful  exhilaration  as  he  walked  lightly  on, 
with  the  world  before  him,  and  any  number 
of  possibilities  in  the  way  of  fortunate  adven- 
tures that  might  befall  him. 

He  had  walked  five  miles,  when,  to  the  left, 
he  saw  an  elderly  man  hard  at  work  in  a  hay 
field.     He  was  leaning  on  his  rake,  and  look- 


46  Driven    from    Home. 

ing  perplexed  and  troubled.  Carl  paused  to 
rest,  and  as  he  looked  over  the  rail  fence,  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  farmer. 

"I  say,  young  feller,  where  are  you  goin'?" 
he  asked. 

"I  don't  know — exactly." 

"You  don't  know  where  you  are  goin'?"  re- 
peated the  farmer,  in  surprise. 

Carl  laughed.  "I  am  going  out  in  the  world 
to  seek  my  fortune,"  he  said. 

"You  be?  Would  you  like  a  job?"  asked  the 
farmer,  eagerly. 

"What  sort  of  a  job?" 

"I'd  like  to  have  you  help  me  hayin'.  My 
hired  man  is  sick,  and  he's  left  me  in  a  hole. 
It's  goin'  to  rain,  and " 

"Going  to  rain?"  repeated  Carl,  in  surprise, 
as  he  looked  up  at  the  nearly  cloudless  sky. 

"Yes.  It  don't  look  like  it,  I  know,  but 
old  Job  Hagar  say  it'll  rain  before  night,  and 
what  he  don't  know  about  the  weather  ain't 
worth  knowin'.  I  want  to  get  the  hay  on  this 
meadow  into  the  barn,  and  then  I'll  feel  safe, 
rain  or  shine." 

"And  you  want  me  to  help  you?" 

"Yes;  you  look  strong  and  hardy." 

"Yes,  I  am  pretty  strong,"  said  Carl,  com- 
placently. 

"Well,  what  do  you  say?" 

"All  right.     I'll  help  you." 


Driven    from    Home.  47 

Carl  gave  a  spring  and  cleared  tke  fence, 
landing  in  the  hay  field,  having  first  thrown 
his  valise  over. 

"You're  pretty  spry,"  said  the  farmer.  "I 
couldn't  do  that." 

"No,  you're  too  heavy,"  said  Carl,  smiling, 
as  he  noted  the  clumsy  figure  of  his  employer. 
"Now,  what  shall  I  do?" 

"Take  that  rake  and  rake  up  the  hay.  Then 
we'll  go  over  to  the  barn  and  get  the  hay 
wagon." 

"Where  is  your  barn?" 

The  farmer  pointed  across  the  fields  to  a 
story-and-a-half  farmhouse,  and  standing  near 
it  a  good-sized  barn,  brown  from  want  of  paint 
and  exposure  to  sun  and  rain.  The  buildings 
were  perhaps  twenty-five  rods  distant. 

"Are  you  used  to  hayin'?"  asked  the  farmer. 

"Well,  no,  not  exactly;  though  I've  handled 
a  rake  before." 

Carl's  experience,  however,  had  been  very 
limited.  He  had,  to  be  sure,  had  a  rake  in  his 
hand,  but  probably  he  had  not  worked  more 
than  ten  minutes  at  it.  However,  raking  is 
easily  learned,  and  his  want  of  experience  was 
not  detected.  He  started  off  with  great  en- 
thusiasm, but  after  a  while  thought  it  best  to 
adopt  the  more  leisurely  movements  of  the 
farmer.  After  two  hours  his  hands  began  to 
blister,  but  still  he  kept  on. 


48  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  have  got  to  make  my  living  by  hard  work," 
he  said  to  himself,  "and  it  won't  do  to  let  such 
a  little  thing  as  a  blister  interfere." 

When  he  had  been  working  a  couple  of  hours, 
he  began  to  feel  hungry.  His  walk,  and  the 
work  he  had  been  doing,  sharpened  his  appe- 
tite till  he  really  felt  uncomfortable.  It  was 
at  this  time — just  twelve  o'clock — that  the 
farmer's  wife  came  to  the  front  door  and  blew 
a  fish  horn  so  vigorously  that  it  could  prob- 
ably have  been  heard  half  a  mile. 

"The  old  woman's  got  dinner  ready,"  said 
the  farmer.  "If  you  don't  mind  takin'  your 
pay  in  victuals,  you  can  go  along  home  with 
me,  and  take  a  bite." 

"I  think  I  could  take  two  or  three,  sir." 

"Ho,  ho !  that's  a  good  joke !  Money's  scarce, 
and  I'd  rather  pay  in  victuals,  if  it's  all  the 
same  to  you." 

"Do  you  generally  find  people  willing  to 
work  for  their  board?"  asked  Carl,  who  knew 
that  he  was  being  imposed  upon. 

"Well,  I  might  pay  a  leetle  more.  You  work 
for  me  till  sundown,  and  I'll  give  you  dinner 
and  supper,  and — fifteen  cents." 

Carl  wanted  to  laugh.  At  this  rate  of  com- 
pensation he  felt  that  it  would  take  a  long  time 
to  make  a  fortune,  but  he  was  so  hungry  that 
he  would  have  accepted  board  alone  if  i*  had 
been  necessary. 


Driven   from    Home.  49 

"I  agree,"  he  said.  "Shall  I  leave  my  rake 
here?" 

"Yes;  it'll  be  all  right." 

"I'll  take  along  my  valise,  for  I  can't  af- 
ford to  run  any  risk  of  losing  it." 

"Jest  as  you  say." 

Five  minutes  brought  them  to  the  farm- 
house. 

"Can  I  wash  my  hands?"  asked  Carl. 

"Yes,  you  can  go  right  to  the  sink  and  wash 
in  the  tin  basin.  There's  a  roll  towel  behind 
the  door.  Mis'  Perkins" — that  was  the  way 
he  addressed  his  wife — "this  is  a  young  chap 
that  I've  hired  to  help  me  hayin'.  You  can 
set  a  chair  for  him  at  the  table." 

"All  right,  Silas.  He  don't  look  very  old, 
though." 

"No,  ma'am.  I  ain't  twenty-one  yet,"  an« 
swered  Carl,  who  was  really  sixteen. 

"I  shouldn't  say  you  was.  You  ain't  no 
signs  of  a  mustache." 

"I  keep  it  short,  ma'am,  in  warm  weather," 
said  Carl. 

"It  don't  dull  a  razor  any  to  cut  it  in  cold 
weather,  does  it?"  asked  the  farmer,  chuckling 
at  his  joke. 

"Well,  no,  sir;  I  can't  say  it  does." 

It  was  a  boiled  dinner  that  the  farmer's 
wife  provided,  corned  beef  and  vegetables,  but 
the  plebeian  meal  seemed  to  Carl  the  best  he 


50  Driven    from    Home. 

ever  ate.  Afterwards  there  was  apple  pud« 
ding,  to  which  he  did  equal  justice. 

"I  never  knew  work  improved  a  fellow's 
appetite  so,"  reflected  the  young  traveler.  "I 
never  ate  with  so  much  relish  at  home." 

After  dinner  they  went  back  to  the  field 
and  worked  till  the  supper  hour,  five  o'clock. 
By  that  time  all  the  hay  had  been  put  into  the 
barn. 

"We've  done  a  good  day's  work,"  said  the 
farmer,  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction,  "and  only 
just  in  time.     Do  you  see  that  dark  cloud?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"In  half  an  hour  there'll  be  rain,  or  I'm  mis- 
taken.    Old  Job  Hagar  is  right  after  all." 

The  farmer  proved  a  true  prophet.  In  half 
an  hour,  while  they  were  at  the  supper  table, 
the  rain  began  to  come  down  in  large  drops 
— forming  pools  in  the  hollows  of  the  ground, 
and  drenching  all  exposed  objects  with  the 
largesse  of  the  heavens. 

"Where  war  you  a-goin'  to-night?"  asked 
the  farmer. 

"I  don't  know,  sir." 

"I  was  thinkin'  that  I'd  give  you  a  night's 
lodgin'  in  place  of  the  fifteen  cents  I  agreed 
to  pay  you.  Money's  very  skeerce  with  me, 
and  will  be  till  I've  sold  off  some  of  the 
crops." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  make  that  arrangement," 


Driven    from    Home.  51 

said  Carl,  who  Lad  been  considering  how  much 
the  farmer  would  ask  for  lodging,  for  there 
seemed  small  chance  of  continuing  his  journey. 
Fifteen  cents  was  a  lower  price  than  he  had 
calculated  on. 

"That's  a  sensible  idea!"  said  the  farmer, 
rubbing  his  hands  with  satisfaction  at  the 
thought  that  he  had  secured  valuable  help  at 
no  money  outlay  whatever. 

The  next  morning  Carl  continued  his  tramp, 
refusing  the  offer  of  continued  employment  on 
the  same  terms.  He  was  bent  on  pursuing 
his  journey,  though  he  did  not  know  exactly 
where  he  would  fetch  up  in  the  end. 

At  twelve  o'clock  that  day  he  found  him- 
self in  the  outskirts  of  a  town,  with  the  same 
uncomfortable  appetite  that  he  had  felt  the 
day  before,  but  with  no  hotel  or  restaurant 
anywhere  near.  There  was,  however,  a  small 
house,  the  outer  door  of  which  stood  conve- 
niently open.  Through  the  open  window,  Carl 
saw  a  table  spread  as  if  for  dinner,  and  he 
thought  it  probable  that  he  could  arrange  to 
become  a  boarder  for  a  single  meal.  He 
knocked  at  the  door,  but  no  one  came.  He 
shouted  out:  "Is  anybody  at  home?"  and  re- 
ceived no  answer.  He  went  to  a  small  barn 
just  outside  and  peered  in,  but  no  one  was  to 
be  seen. 

What  should  he  do?     He  was  terribly  hun« 


52  Driven    from    Home. 

gry,  and  the  sight  of  the  food  on  the  table  was 
tantalizing. 

"I'll  go  in,  as  the  door  is  open,"  he  decided, 
"and  sit  down  to  the  table  and  eat.  Somebody- 
will  be  along  before  I  get  through,  and  I'll 
pay  whatever  is  satisfactory,  for  eat  I  must." 

He  entered,  seated  himself,  and  ate  heart- 
ily.    Still  no  one  appeared. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  off  without  paying," 
thought  Carl.    "I'll  see  if  I  can  find  somebody." 

He  opened  the  door  into  the  kitchen,  but  it 
was  deserted.  Then  he  opened  that  of  a  small 
bedroom,  and  started  back  in  terror  and  dis- 
may. 

There — suspended  from  a  hook — a  man  of 
middle  age  was  hanging,  with  his  head  bent 
forward,  his  eyes  wide  open,  and  his  tongue 
protruding  from  his  mouth ! 


Duveii  from   Home.  53 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CAEL  FALLS  UNDER  SUSPICION. 

To  a  person  of  any  age  such  a  sight  as  that 
described  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter  might 
well  have  proved  startling.  To  a  boy  like 
Carl  it  was  simply  overwhelming.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  he  had  but  twice  seen  a  dead 
person,  and  never  a  victim  of  violence.  The 
peculiar  circumstances  increased  the  effect 
upon  his  mind. 

He  placed  his  hand  upon  the  man's  face,  and 
found  that  he  was  still  warm.  He  could  have 
been  dead  but  a  short  time. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  thought  Carl,  perplexed. 
"This  is  terrible !" 

Then  it  flashed  upon  him  that  as  he  was 
alone  with  the  dead  man  suspicion  might  fall 
upon  him  as  being  concerned  in  what  might  be 
called  a  murder. 

"I  had  better  leave  here  at  once,"  he  re- 
flected. "I  shall  have  to  go  away  without  pay* 
ing  for  my  meal." 


54  Driven   from    Home. 

He  started  to  leave  the  house,  but  had 
scarcely  reached  the  door  when  two  persons 
— a  man  and  a  woman — entered.  Both  looked 
at  Carl  with  suspicion. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  asked  the  man. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  answered  Carl;  "I 
was  very  hungry,  and  seeing  no  one  about,  took 
the  liberty  to  sit  down  at  the  table  and  eat.  I 
am  willing  to  pay  for  my  dinner  if  you  will 
tell  me  how  much  it  amounts  to." 

"Wasn't  my  husband  here?"  asked  the 
woman. 

"I — I  am  afraid  something  has  happened  to 
your  husband,"  faltered  Carl. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Carl  silently  pointed  to  the  chamber  door. 
The  woman  opened  it,  and  uttered  a  loud 
shriek. 

"Look  here,  Walter !"  she  cried. 

Her  companion  quickly  came  to  her  side. 

"My  husband  is  dead!"  cried  the  woman; 
"basely  murdered,  and  there,"  pointing  fiercely 
to  Carl,  "there  stands  the  murderer !" 

"Madam,  you  cannot  believe  this !"  said  Carl, 
naturally  agitated. 

"What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?"  de- 
manded the  man,  suspiciously. 

"I  only  just  saw — your  husband,"  continued 
Carl,  addressing  himself  to  the  woman.  "I 
had  finished  my  meal,  when  I  began  to  search 


Driven    from    Home.  55 

for  some  one  whom  I  could  pay,  and  so  opened 
this  door  into  the  room  beyond,  when  I  saw 
— him  hanging  there !" 

"Don't  believe  him,  the  red-handed  mur- 
derer!" broke  out  the  woman,  fiercely.  "He 
is  probably  a  thief;  he  killed  my  poor  husband, 
and  then  sat  down  like  a  cold-blooded  villain 
that  he  is,  and  gorged  himself." 

Things  began  to  look  very  serious  for  poor 
Carl. 

"Your  husband  is  larger  and  stronger  than 
myself,"  he  urged,  desperately.  "How  could 
I  overpower  him?" 

"It  looks  reasonable,  Maria,"  said  the  man. 
"I  don't  see  how  the  boy  could  have  killed  Mr. 
Brown,  or  lifted  him  upon  the  hook,  even  if 
he  did  not  resist." 

"He  murdered  him,  I  tell  you,  he  murdered 
him!"  shrieked  the  woman,  who  seemed  be- 
reft of  reason.  "I  call  upon  you  to  arrest 
him." 

"I  am  not  a  constable,  Maria." 

"Then  tie  him  so  he  cannot  get  away,  and 
go  for  a  constable.  I  wouldn't  feel  safe  with 
him  in  the  house,  unless  he  were  tied  fast.  He 
might  hang  me !" 

Terrible  as  the  circumstances  were,  Carl  felt 
an  impulse  to  laugh.  It  seemed  absurd  to  hear 
himself  talked  of  in  this  way. 

"Tie  me  if  you  like!"  he  said.     "I  am  will* 


56  Driven    from    Home. 

ing  to  wait  here  till  some  one  comes  who  has 
a  little  common  sense.  Just  remember  that 
I  am  only  a  boy,  and  haven't  the  strength  of 
a  full-grown  man  J" 

"The  boy  is  right,  Maria !  It's  a  foolish  idea 
of  yours." 

"I  call  upon  you  to  tie  the  villain !"  insisted 
the  woman. 

"Just  as  you  say!  Can  you  give  me  some 
rope?" 

From  a  drawer  Mrs.  Brown  drew  a  quan- 
tity of  strong  cord,  and  the  man  proceeded  to 
tie  Carl's  hands. 

"Tie  his  feet,  too,  Walter !" 

"Even  if  you  didn't  tie  me,  I  would  prom- 
ise to  remain  here.  I  don't  want  anybody  to 
suspect  me  of  such  a  thing,"  put  in  Carl. 

"How  artful  he  is !"  said  Mrs.  Brown.  "Tie 
him  strong,  Walter." 

The  two  were  left  alone,  Carl  feeling  deci- 
dedly uncomfortable.  The  newly-made  widow 
laid  her  head  upon  the  table  and  moaned, 
glancing  occasionally  at  the  body  of  her  hus- 
band, as  it  still  hung  suspended  from  the  hook. 

"Oh,  William,  I  little  expected  to  find  you 
dead !"  she  groaned.  "I  only  went  to  the  store 
to  buy  a  pound  of  salt,  and  when  I  come  back, 
I  find  you  cold  and  still,  the  victim  of  a  young 
rufifian!  How  could  you  be  so  wicked?"  she 
demanded  fiercely  of  Carl. 


Driven    from    Home.  57 

"I  have  told  yon  that  I  had  nothing  to  do 
with  your  husband's  death,  madam." 

"Who  killed  him,  then?"  she  cried. 

"I  don't  know.  He  must  have  committed 
suicide." 

"Don't  think  you  are  going  to  escape  in  that 
way.     I  won't  rest  till  I  see  you  hung!" 

"I  wish  I  had  never  entered  the  house," 
thought  Carl,  uncomfortably.  "I  would  rather 
have  gone  hungry  for  twenty-four  hours  longer 
than  find  myself  in  such  a  position." 

Half  an  hour  passed.  Then  a  sound  of  voices 
was  heard  outside,  and  half  a  dozen  men  en- 
tered, including  besides  the  messenger,  the 
constable  and  a  physician. 

"Why  was  he  not  cut  down?"  asked  the  doc- 
tor, hastily.  "There  might  have  been  a  chance 
to  resuscitate  him." 

"I  didn't  think  of  it,"  said  the  messenger. 
"Maria  was  so  excited,  and  insisted  that  the 
boy  murdered  him." 

"What  boy?" 

Carl  was  pointed  out. 

"That  boy?  What  nonsense!"  exclaimed  Dr. 
Park.  "Why,  it  would  be  more  than  you  or 
I  could  do  to  overpower  and  hang  a  man 
weighing  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
pounds." 

"That's  what  I  thought,  but  Maria  seemed 
crazed  like." 


^8  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  tell  you  he  did  it !    Are  you  going  to  let 
him  go,  the  red-handed  murderer?" 

"Loose  the  cord,  and  I  will  question  the 
boy,"  said  Dr.  Park,  with  an  air  of  authority. 

Carl  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  when,  freed 
from  his  bonds,  he  stood  upright. 

"I'll  tell  you  all  I  know,"  he  said,  "but  it 
won't  throw  any  light  upon  the  death." 

Dr.  Park  listened  attentively,  and  asked  one 
or  two  questions. 

"Did  you  hear  any  noise  when  you  were  sit- 
ting at  the  table?"  he  inquired. 

"No,  sir." 

"Was  the  door  closed?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That  of  itself  would  probably  prevent  your 
hearing  anything.  Mrs.  Brown,  at  what  hour 
did  you  leave  the  house?" 

"At  ten  minutes  of  twelve." 

"It  is  now  five  minutes  of  one.  The  deed 
must  have  been  committed  just  after  you  left 
the  house.  Had  you  noticed  anything  out  of 
the  way  in  your  husband's  manner?" 

"No,  sir,  not  much.     He  was  always  a  silent 

man." 

"Had  anything  happened  to  disturb  him?" 

"He  got  a  letter  this  morning.  I  don't  know 
what  was  in  it." 

"We  had  better  search  for  it." 

The  body  was  taken  down  and  laid  on  the 


Driven    from    Home.  59 

bed.  Dr.  Park  searched  the  pockets,  and 
found  a  half  sheet  of  note  paper,  on  which 
these  lines  were  written  : 

"Maria: — I  have  made  up  my  mind  I  can 
live  no  longer.  I  have  made  a  terrible  dis- 
covery. When  I  married  you,  I  thought  my 
first  wife,  who  deserted  me  four  years  ago,  was 
dead.  I  learn  by  a  letter  received  this  morn- 
ing that  she  is  still  living  in  a  town  of  Illi- 
nois. The  only  thing  I  can  do  is  to  free  you 
both  from  my  presence.  When  you  come  back 
from  the  store  you  will  find  me  cold  and  dead. 
The  little  that  I  leave  behind  I  give  to  you.  If 
my  first  wife  should  come  here,  as  she  threat- 
ens, you  can  tell  her  so.     Good-by. 

"William." 

The  reading  of  this  letter  made  a  sensation. 
Mrs.  Brown  went  into  hysterics,  and  there  was 
a  scene  of  confusion. 

"Do  you  think  I  can  go?"  Carl  asked  Dr. 
Park. 

"Yes.  There  is  nothing  to  connect  you  with 
the  sad  event." 

Carl  gladly  left  the  cottage,  and  it  was  only 
when  he  was  a  mile  on  his  way  that  he  remem- 
bered that  he  had  not  paid  for  his  dinner,  after 
all. 


6o  Driven   from    Home. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A     PLAUSIBLE     STRANGER. 

Three  days  later  found  Carl  still  on  his  trav- 
els. It  was  his  custom  to  obtain  his  meals  at  a 
cheap  hotel,  or,  if  none  were  met  with,  at  a 
farmhouse,  and  to  secure  lodgings  where  he 
could,  and  on  as  favorable  terms  as  possible. 
He  realized  the  need  of  economy,  and  felt  that 
he  was  practicing  it.  He  had  changed  his  ten- 
dollar  bill  the  first  day,  for  a  five  and  several 
ones.  These  last  were  now  spent,  and  the  five- 
dollar  bill  alone  remained  to  him.  He  had 
earned  nothing,  though  every  where  he  had  been 
on  the  lookout  for  a  job. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  last  day  he  over- 
took a  young  man  of  twenty-five,  who  was  trav- 
eling in  the  same  direction. 

"Good-afternoon,"  said  the  young  man,  so- 
ciably. 

"Good-afternoon,  sir." 

"Where  are  you  bound,  may  I  ask?" 

"To  the  next  towa." 

"Fillmore?" 


Driven    from    Home.  6l 

"Yes,  if  that  is  the  name." 
"So  am  I.     Why  shouldn't    we    travel    to- 
gether?" 

"I  have  no  objection,"  said  Carl,  who  was 
glad  of  company. 

"Are  you  in  any  business?" 

"No,  but  I  hope  to  find  a  place." 

"Oh,  a  smart  boy  like  you  will  soon  find 
employment." 

"I  hope  so,  I  am  sure.  I  haven't  much  money 
left,  and  it  is  necessary  I  should  do  some- 
thing." 

"Just  so.  I  am  a  New  York  salesman,  but 
just  now  I  am  on  my  vacation — taking  a  pedes- 
trian tour  with  knapsack  and  staff,  as  you  see. 
The  beauty  of  it  is  that  my  salary  runs  on  just 
as  if  I  were  at  my  post,  and  will  nearly  pay 
all  my  traveling  expenses." 

"You  are  in  luck.  Besides  you  have  a  good 
place  to  go  back  to.  There  isn't  any  vacancy, 
is  there?  You  couldn't  take  on  a  boy?"  asked 
Carl,  eagerly. 

"Well,  there  might  be  a  chance,"  said  the 
young  man,  slowly.  "You  haven't  any  recom- 
mendations with  you,  have  you?' 

"No;  I  have  never  been  employed." 
"It  doesn't  matter.     I  will  recommend  you 
myself." 

"You  might  be  deceived  in  me,"  said  Carl, 
smiling. 


62  Driven    from    Home. 

"I'll  take  the  risk  of  that.  I  know  a  reliable 
boy  when  I  see  him." 

"Thank  you.  What  is  the  name  of  your 
firm?" 

"F.  Brandes  &  Co.,  commission  merchants, 
Pearl  Street.  My  own  name  is  Chauncy  Hub- 
bard, at  your  service." 

"I  am  Carl  Crawford." 

"That's  a  good  name.  I  predict  that  we  shall 
be  great  chums,  if  I  manage  to  get  you  a  place 
in  our  establishment." 

"Is  Mr.  Brandes  a  good  man  to  work  for?" 

"Yes,  he  is  easy  and  good-natured.  He  is 
liberal  to  his  clerks.  What  salary  do  you  think 
I  get?" 

"I  couldn't  guess." 

"Forty  dollars  a  week,  and  I  am  only  twen- 
ty-five. Went  into  the  house  at  sixteen,  and 
worked  my  way  up." 

"You  have  certainly  done  well,"  said  Carl, 
respectfully. 

"Well,  I'm  no  slouch,  if  I  do  say  it  my- 
self." 

"I  don't  wonder  your  income  pays  the  ex- 
penses of  your  vacation  trip." 

"It  ought  to,  that's  a  fact,  though  I'm  rather 
free  handed  and  like  to  spend  money.  My  pros- 
pects are  pretty  good  in  another  direction.  Old 
Fred  Brandes  has  a  handsome  daughter,  who 
thinks  considerable  of  your  humble  servaat." 


Driven    from    Home.  63 

"Do  you  think  there  is  any  chance  of  mar- 
rying her?"  asked  Carl,  with  interest. 

"I  think  my  chance  is  pretty  good,  as  the 
girl  won't  look  at  anybody  else." 

"Is  Mr.  Brandes  wealthy?" 

"Yes,  the  old  man's  pretty  well  fixed,  worth 
nearly  half  a  million,  I  guess." 

"Perhaps  he  will  take  you  into  the  firm,"  sug- 
gested Carl. 

"Very  likely.    That's  what  I'm  working  for." 

"At  any  rate,  you  ought  to  save  something 
out  of  your  salary.'' 

"I  ought,  but  I  haven't.  The  fact  is,  Carl," 
said  Chauncy  Hubbard,  in  a  burst  of  con- 
fidence, -'•'!  have  a  great  mind  to  make  a  con- 
fession to  you." 

"I  shall  feel  flattered,  I  am  sure,"  said  Carl, 
politely. 

"Fhave  one  great  fault — I  gamble." 

"Do  you?"  said  Carl,  rather  startled,  for  he 
had  been  brought  up  very  properly  to  have  a 
horror  of  gambling. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it's  in  my  blood.  My  father 
was  a  very  rich  man  at  one  time,  but  he  lost 
nearly  all  his  fortune  at  the  gaming  table." 

"That  ought  to  have  been  a  warning  to  you, 
I  should  think." 

"It  ought,  and  may  be  yet,  for  I  am  still  a 
young  man." 

"Mr.  Hubbard,"  said  Carl,  earnestly,  "I  feel 


64  Driven    from    Home. 

rather  diffident  about  advising  you,  for  I  am 
only  a  boy,  but  I  should  think  you  would  give 
up  such  a  dangerous  habit." 

"Say  no  more,  Carl !  You  are  a  true  friend. 
I  will  try  to  follow  your  advice.  Give  me  your 
hand." 

Carl  did  so,  and  felt  a  warm  glow  of  pleas- 
ure at  the  thought  that  perhaps  he  had  re- 
deemed his  companion  from  a  fascinating  vice. 

"I  really  wish  I  had  a.  sensible  boy  like  you 
to  be  my  constant  companion.  I  should  feel 
safer." 

"Do  you  really  have  such  a  passion  for  gam- 
bling, then?" 

"Yes;  if  at  the  hotel  to-night  I  should  see 
a  party  playing  poker,  I  could  not  resist  join- 
ing them.     Odd,  isn't  it?" 

"I  am  glad  I  have  no  such  temptation." 

"Yes,  you  are  lucky.  By  the  way,  how  much 
money  have  you  about  you?" 

"Five  dollars." 

"Then  you  can  do  me  a  favor.  I  have  a  ten- 
dollar  bill,  which  I  need  to  get  me  home.  Now, 
I  would  like  to  have  you  keep  a  part  of  it  for 
me  till  I  go  away  in  the  morning.  Give  me 
your  five,  and  I  will  hand  you  ten.  Out  of 
that  you  can  pay  my  hotel  bill  and  hand  me  the 
balance  due  me  in  the  morning." 

"If  you  really  wish  me  to  do  so." 

"Enough  said.     Here  is  the  ten." 


Driven    from    Home.  65 

Carl  took  the  bill,  and  gave  Mr.  Hubbard  his 
five-dollar  note. 

"You  are  placing  considerable  confidence  in 
me,"  he  said. 

"I  am,  it  is  true,  but  I  have  no  fear  of  being 
deceived.  You  are  a  boy  who  naturally  in- 
spires confidence." 

Carl  thought  Mr.  Chauncy  Hubbard  a  very 
agreeable  and  sensible  fellow,  and  he  felt  flat- 
tered to  think  that  the  young  man  had  chosen 
him  as  a  guardian,  so  to  speak. 

"By  the  way,  Carl,  you  haven't  told  me," 
said  Hubbard,  as  they  pursued  their  journey, 
'mow  a  boy  like  yourself  is  forced  to  work  his 
own  way." 

"I  can  tell  you  the  reason  very  briefly — 1 
have  a  stepmother." 

"I  understand.    Is  your  father  living?" 

"Yes." 

"But  he  thinks  more  of  the  stepmother  than 
of  you?" 

"I  am  afraid  he  does." 

"You  have  my  sympathy,  Carl.  I  will  do  all 
I  can  to  help  you.  If  you  can  only  get  a  place 
in  our  establishment,  you  will  be  all  right. 
Step  by  step  you  will  rise,  till  you  come  to 
stand  where  I  do." 

"That  would  satisfy  me.  Has  Mr.  Brandes 
got  another  daughter?" 

"No,  there  is  only  ome." 


66  Driven    from    Home. 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  be  content  with  the 
forty  dollars  a  week.  If  I  ever  get  it,  I  will 
save  half." 

"I  wish  I  could." 

"You  can  if  you  try.  Why,  you  might  have 
two  thousand  dollars  saved  up  now,  if  you  had 
only  begun  to  save  in  time." 

"I  have  lost  more  than  that  at  the  gaming 
table.     You  will  think  me  very  foolish." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Carl,  frankly. 

"You  are  right.  But  here  we  are  almost  at 
the  village." 

"Is  there  a  good  hotel?" 

"Yes — the  Fillmore.  We  will  take  adjoining 
rooms  if  you  say  so." 

"Very  well." 

"And  in  the  morning  you  will  pay  the  bill?" 

"Certainly." 

The  two  travelers  had  a  good  supper,  and 
retired  early,  both  being  fatigued  with  the  jour- 
ney. It  was  not  till  eight  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing that  Carl  opened  his  eyes.  lie  dressed  has- 
tily, and  went  down  to  breakfast.  He  was 
rather  surprised  not  to  see  his  companion  of 
the  day  before. 

"Has  Mr.  Hubbard  come  down  yet?"  he 
asked  at  the  desk. 

"Yes;  he  took  an  early  breakfast,  and  went 
off  by  the  first  train." 

"That  is  strange.    I  was  to  pay  his  bill." 


Driven    from    Home.  67 

"Repaid  it  himself/' 

Carl  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  this. 
Had  Hubbard  forgotten  that  he  had  five  dol- 
lars belonging  to  him?  Fortunately,  Carl  had 
his  city  address,  and  could  refund  the  money 
in  New  York. 

"Very  well !  I  will  pay  my  own  bill.  How 
much  is  it?" 

"A  dollar  and  a  quarter." 

Carl  took  the  ten-dollar  bill  from  his  wallet 
and  tendered  it  to  the  clerk. 

Instead  of  changing  it  at  once,  the  clerk  held 
it  up  to  the  light  and  examined  it  critically. 

"I  can't  take  that  bill,"  he  said,  abruptly. 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  it  is  counterfeit." 

Carl  turned  pale,  ami  the  room  seemed  to 
whirl  round.     It  was  all  the  money  he  had. 


68  Driven  from   Home. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  COUNTERFEIT  BILL. 

"Are  you  sure  it  is  counterfeit?"  asked 
Carl,  very  much  disturbed. 

"I  am  certain  of  it.  I  haven't  been  han- 
dling bank  bills  for  ten  years  without  being 
able  to  tell  good  money  from  bad.  I'll  trou- 
ble you  for  another  bill." 

"That's  all  the  money  I  have,"  faltered  Carl. 

"Look  here,  young  man/'  said  the  clerk, 
sternly,  "you  are  trying  a  bold  game,  but  it 
won't  succeed." 

"I  am  trying  no  game  at  all,"  said  Carl, 
plucking  up  spirit.  "I  thought  the  bill  was 
good." 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"From  the  man  who  came  with  me  last  even- 
ing— Mr.  Hubbard." 

"The  money  he  gave  me  was  good." 

"What  did  he  give  you?" 

"A  five-dollar  bill." 

"It  was  my  five-dollar  bill,"  said  Carl,  bit 
terte- 


Driven    from    Home.  69 

"Your  story  doesn't  seem  very  probable," 
said  the  clerk,  suspiciously.  "How  did  he  hap- 
pen to  get  your  money,  and  you  his?" 

"He  told  me  that  he  would  get  to  gambling, 
and  wished  me  to  take  money  enough  to  pay 
his  bill  here.  He  handed  me  the  ten-dollar 
bill  which  you  say  is  bad,  and  I  gave  him  five 
in  return.  I  think  now  he  only  wanted  to 
get  good  money  for  bad." 

"Your  story  may  be  true,  or  it  may  not," 
said  the  clerk,  whose  manner  indicated  incre- 
dulity.  "That  is  nothing  to  me.  All  you  have 
to  do  is  to  pay  your  hotel  bill,  and  you  can  set- 
tle with  Mr.  Hubbard  when  you  see  him." 

"But  I  have  no  other  money,"  said  Carl, 
desperately. 

"Then  I  shall  feel  justified  in  ordering  your 
arrest  on  a  charge  of  passing,  or  trying  to 
pass,  counterfeit  money." 

"Don't  do  that,  sir !  I  will  see  that  you  are 
paid  out  of  the  first  money  I  earn." 

"You  must  think  I  am  soft,"  said  the  clerk, 
contemptuously.  "I  have  seen  persons  of  your 
stripe  before.  I  dare  say,  if  you  were  searched, 
more  counterfeit  money  would  be  found  in 
your  pockets." 

"Search  me,  then!"  cried  Carl,  indignantly. 
"I  am  perfectly  willing  that  you  should." 

[aven't  you  any  relations  who  will  pay 
your  bill?"  " 


jo  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  have  no  one  to  call  upon,"  answered  Carl, 
soberly.  "Couldn't  you  let  me  work  it  out? 
I  am  ready  to  do  any  kind  of  work." 

"Our  list  of  workers  is  full,"  said  the  clerk, 
coldly. 

Poor  Carl!  he  felt  that  he  was  decidedly 
in  a  tight  place.  He  had  never  before  found 
himself  unable  to  meet  his  bills,  nor  would 
he  have  been  so  placed  now  but  for  Hubbard's 
rascality.  A  dollar  and  a  quarter  seems  a 
small  sum,  but  if  you  are  absolutely  penni- 
less it  might  as  well  be  a  thousand.  Sup- 
pose he  should  be  arrested  and  the  story  get 
into  the  papers?  How  his  stepmother  would 
exult  in  the  record  of  his  disgrace!  He  could 
anticipate  what  she  would  say.  Peter,  too, 
would  rejoice,  and  between  them  both  his  fa- 
ther would  be  persuaded  that  he  was  thor- 
oughly unprincipled. 

"What  have  you  got  in  your  valise?"  asked 
the  clerk. 

"Only  some  underclothing.  If  there  were 
anything  of  any  value  I  would  cheerfully  leave 
it  as  security.  Wait  a  minute,  though,"  he 
said,  with  a  sudden  thought.  "Here  is  a  gold 
pencil!  It  is  worth  five  dollars;  at  any  rate, 
it  cost  more  than  that.  I  can  place  that  in 
your  hands." 

"Let  me  see  it." 

Carl  handed  the  clerk  a  neat  gold  pencil, 


Driven    from    Home.  71 

on  which  his  name  was  inscribed.  It  was  evi- 
dently of  good  quality,  and  found  favor  with 
the  clerk. 

"I'll  give  you  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  for  the 
pencil,"  he  said,  "and  call  it  square." 

"I  wouldn't  like  to  sell  it,"  said  Carl. 

"You  won't  get  any  more  for  it." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  that ;  but  it  was  given 
me  by  my  mother,  who  is  now  dead.  I  woukl 
not  like  to  part  with  anything  that  she  gave 
me." 

"You  would  prefer  to  get  off  scot-free,  I  sup- 
pose?" retorted  the  clerk,  with  a  sneer. 

"No ;  I  am  willing  to  leave  it  in  your  hands, 
but  I  should  like  the  privilege  of  redeeming 
it  when  I  have  the  money." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  clerk,  who  reflected 
that  in  all  probability  Carl  would  never  come 
back  for  it.     "I'll  take  it  on  those  conditions." 

Carl  passed  over  the  pencil  with  a  sigh.  He 
didn't  like  to  part  with  it,  even  for  a  short 
time,  but  there  seemed  no  help  for  it. 

"All  right.    I  will  mark  you  paid." 

Carl  left  the  hotel,  satchel  in  hand,  and  as 
he  passed  out  into  the  street,  reflected  with 
a  sinking  heart  that  he  was  now  quite  pen- 
niless. Where  was  he  to  get  his  dinner,  and 
how  was  he  to  provide  himself  with  a  lodg- 
ing that  night?  At  present  he  was  not  hun- 
gry, having  eaten  a  hearty  breakfast  at  the 


72  Driven    from    Home. 

hotel,  but  by  one  o'clock  he  would  feel  the  need 
of  food.  He  began  to  ask  himself  if,  after  all, 
he  had  not  been  unwise  in  leaving  home1,  no 
matter  how  badly  he  had  been  treated  by  his 
stepmother.  There,  at  least,  he  was  certain 
of  living  comfortably.  Now  he  was  in  dan- 
ger of  starvation,  and  on  two  occasions  al- 
ready he  had  incurred  suspicion,  once  of  be- 
ing concerned  in  a  murder,  and  just  now  of 
passing  counterfeit  money.  Ought  he  to  have 
submitted,  and  so  avoided  all  these  perils? 

"No!"  he  finally  decided;  "I  won't  give  up 
the  ship  yet.  I  am  about  as  badly  off  as  I 
can  be;  I  am  without  a  cent,  and  don't  know 
where  my  next  meal  is  to  come  from.  But 
my  luck  may  turn — it  must  turn — it  has 
turned!"  he  exclaimed  with  energy,  as  his 
wrandering  glance  suddenly  fell  upon  a  sil- 
ver quarter  of  a  dollar,  nearly  covered  up  with 
the  dust  of  the  street.  "That  shall  prove  a 
good  omen !" 

He  stooped  over  and  picked  up  the  coin, 
which  he  put  in  his  vest  pocket. 

It  was  wonderful  how  the  possession  of  this 
small  sum  of  money  restored  his  courage  and 
raised  his  spirits.  He  was  sure  of  a  dinner 
now,  at  all  events.  It  looked  as  if  Providence 
was  smiling  on  him. 

Two  miles  farther  on  Carl  overtook  a  boy 
of  about  bis  own  age  trudging  along  the  road 


Driven   from    Home.  73 

with  a  rake  over  his  shoulder.  He  wore  over- 
alls, and  was  evidently  a  farmer's  boy. 

"Good-day!"  said  Carl,  pleasantly,  noticing 
that  the  boy  regarded  him  with  interest. 

"Good-day!''  returned  the  country  lad, 
rather  bashfully. 

"Can  you  tell  me  if  there  is  any  place  near 
where  I  can  buy  some  dinner?" 

"There  ain't  no  tavern,  if  that's  what  you 
mean.    I'm  goin'  home  to  dinner  myself." 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"Over  yonder." 

He  pointed  to  a  farmhouse  about  a  dozen 
rods  away. 

"Do  you  think  your  mother  would  give  me 
some  dinner?" 

"I  guess  she  would.  Mam's  real  accom- 
modatin'." 

"Will  you  ask  her?" 

"Yes;  just  come  along  of  me." 

He  turned  into  the  yard,  and  followed  a 
narrow  path  to  the  back  door. 

"I'll  stay  here  while  you  ask,"  said  Carl. 

The  boy  entered  the  house,  and  came  out 
after  a  brief  absence. 

"Mam  says  you're  to  come  in,"  he  said. 

Carl,  glad  at  heart,  and  feeling  quite  pre- 
pared to  eat  fifty  cents'  worth  of  dinner,  fol- 
lowed the  boy  inside. 

A      pleasant-looking,      matronly      woman, 


74  Driven    from    Home. 

plainly  bill  neatly  attired,  came  forward  to 
greet  him. 

"Nat  says  you  would  like  to  get  some  din- 
ner," she  said. 

"Yes,"  answered  Carl.  "I  hope  you'll  ex- 
cuse my  applying  to  you,  but  your  son  tells  me 
there  is  no  hotel  near  by." 

"The  nearest  one  is  three  miles  away  from 
here." 

"I  don't  think  I  can  hold  out  so  long,"  said 
Carl,  smiling. 

"Sit  right  down  with  Nat,"  said  the  farm- 
er's wife,  hospitably.  "Mr.  Sweetser  won't  be 
home  for  half  an  hour.  We've  got  enough,  such 
as  it  is." 

Evidently  Mrs.  Sweetser  was  a  good  cook. 
The  dinner  consisted  of  boiled  mutton,  with 
several  kinds  of  vegetables.  A  cup  of  tea  and 
two  kinds  of  pie  followed. 

It  was  hard  to  tell  which  of  the  two  boys  did 
fuller  justice  to  the  meal.  Nat  had  the  usual 
appetite  of  a  healthy  farm  boy,  and  Carl,  in 
spite  of  his  recent  anxieties,  and  narrow  es- 
cape from  serious  peril,  did  not  allow  himself 
to  fall  behind. 

"Your  mother's  a  fine  cook!"  said  Carl,  be- 
tween two  mouthfuls. 

"Ain't  she,  though?"  answered  Nat,  his 
mouth  full  of  pie. 

When  Carl  rose  from  the  table  he  feared  that 


Driven    from    Home.  75 

he  had  eaten  more  than  his  little  stock  of 
money  would  pay  for. 

"How  much  will  it  be,  Mrs.  Sweetser?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  you're  quite  welcome  to  all  you've  had," 
said  the  good  woman,  cheerily.  "It's  plain 
farmer's  fare." 

"I  never  tasted  a  better  dinner,"  said  Carl. 

Mrs.  Sweetser  seemed  pleased  with  the  com- 
pliment to  her  cooking. 

"Come  again  when  you  are  passing  this 
way,"  she  said.  "You  will  always  be  welcome 
to  a  dinner." 

Carl  thanked  her  heartily,  and  pressed  on 
his  way.  Two  hours  later,  at  a  lonely  point 
of  the  road,  an  ill-looking  tramp,  who  had  been 
reclining  by  the  wayside,  jumped  up,  and  ad- 
dressed him  in  a  menacing  tone : 

"Young  feller,  shell  over  all  the  money  you 
have  got,  or  I'll  hurt  you!  I'm  hard  up,  and 
I  won't  stand  no  nonsense." 

Carl  started  and  looked  into  the  face  of  the 
tramp.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never 
seen  a  man  more  ill-favored,  or  viliainoos-look- 
ing. 


76  Driven   from    Home. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE     ARCHERY     PRIZE. 

Situated  as  he  was,  it  seemed,  on  second 
thought,  rather  a  joke  to  Carl  to  be  attacked 
by  a  robber.  He  had  but  twenty-five  cents  in 
good  money  about  him,  and  that  he  had  just 
picked  up  by  the  merest  chance. 

"Do  I  look  like  a  banker?"  he  asked,  hu- 
morously.    "Why  do  you  want  to  rob  a  boy?" 

"The  way  you're  togged  out,  you  must  have 
something,"  growled  the  tramp,  "and  I  haven't 
got  a  penny." 

"Your  business  doesn't  seem  to  pay,  then?" 

"Don't  you  make  fun  of  me,  or  I'll  wring 
your  neck!  Just  hand  over  your  money  and 
be  quick  about  it !  I  haven't  time  to  stand  fool- 
ing here  all  day." 

A  bright  idea  came  to  Carl.  He  couldn't 
spare  the  silver  coin,  which  constituted  all  his 
available  wealth,  but  he  still  had  the  counter- 
feit note. 

"You  won't  take  all  my  money,  will  you?" 
he  said,  earnestly. 


Driven    from    Home.  yj 

"How  much  have  you  got?"  asked  the  tramp*, 
pricking  up  his  ears. 

Carl,  with  apparent  reluctance,  drew  out  the 
ten-dollar  bill. 

The  tramp's  face  lighted  up. 

"Is  your  name  Vanderbilt?"  he  asked.  "I 
didn't  expect  to  make  such  a  haul." 

"Can't  you  give  me  back  a,  dollar  out  of  it? 
I  don't  want  to  lose  all  I  have." 

"I  haven't  got  a  cent.  You'll  have  to  wait 
till  we  meet  again.  So  long,  boy!  You've 
helped  me  out  of  a  scrape." 

"Or  into  one,"  thought  Carl. 

The  tramp  straightened  up,  buttoned  his 
dilapidated  coat,  and  walked  off  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  being  a  capitalist. 

Carl  watched  him  with  a  smile. 

"I  hope  I  won't  meet  him  after  he  has  dis- 
covered that  the  bill  is  a  counterfeit,"  he  said 
to  himself. 

He  congratulated  himself  upon  being  still 
the  possessor  of  twenty-five  cents  in  silver.  It 
was  not  much,  but  it  seemed  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter than  being  penniless.  A  week  before  he 
would  have  thought  it  impossible  that  such  a 
paltry  sum  would  have  made  him  feel  comfort- 
able, but  he  had  passed  through  a  great  deal 
since  then. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  he  came 
to  a  field,  in  which  something  appeared  to  be 


78  Driven    from    Home. 

going  on.  Some  forty  or  fifty  young  persons. 
boys  and  girls,  were  walking  about  the  grass, 
and  seemed  to  be  preparing  for  some  interest- 
ing event. 

Carl  stopped  to  rest  and  look  on. 

"What's  going  on  here?"  he  asked  of  a  boy 
who  was  sitting  on  the  fence. 

"It's  a  meeting  of  the  athletic  association," 
said  the  boy. 

"What  are  they  doing?" 

"They  try  for  prizes  in  jumping,  'vaulting, 
archery  and  so  on." 

This  interested  Carl,  who  excelled  in  all 
manly  exercises. 

"I  suppose  I  may  stay  and  look  on?"  he  said, 
inquiringly. 

"Why,  of  course.  Jump  over  the  fence  and 
I'll  go  round  with  you." 

It  seemed  pleasant  to  Carl  to  associate  once 
more  with  boys  of  his  own  age.  Thrown  un- 
expectedly upon  his  own  resources,  he  had  al- 
most forgotten  that  he  was  a  boy.  Face  to 
face  with  a  cold  and  unsyinpathizing  world, 
he  seemed  to  himself  twenty-five  at  least. 

"Those  who  wish  to  compete  for  the  archery 
prize  will  come  forward,"  announced  Robert 
Gardiner,  a  young  man  of  nineteen,  who,  as 
Carl  learned,  was  the  president  of  the  associa- 
tion. "You  all  understand  the  conditions. 
The  entry  fee  to  competitors  is  ten  cents.     The 


Driven    from    Home.  79 

prize  to  the  most  successful  archer  is  one  dol- 
lar." 

Several  boys  came  forward  and  paid  the  en- 
trance fee. 

"Would  you  like  to  compete?"  asked  Edward 
Downie,  the  boy  whose  acquaintance  Carl  had 
made. 

"I  am  an  outsider,"  said  Carl.  "I  don't  be- 
long to  the  association." 

"I'll  speak  to  the  president,  if  you  like." 

"I  don't  want  to  intrude." 

"It  won't  be  considered  an  intrusion.  You 
pay  the  entrance  fee  and  take  your  chances." 

Edward  went  to  the  president  and  spoke  to 
him  in  a  low  voice.  The  result  was  that  he 
advanced  to  Carl,  and  said,  courteously: 

"If  you  would  like  to  enter  into  our  games, 
you  are  quite  at  liberty  to  do  so." 

"Thank  you,"  responded  Carl.  "I  have  had 
a  little  practice  in  archery,  and  will  enter  my 
name  for  that  prize." 

He  paid  over  his  quarter  and  received  back 
fifteen  cents  in  change.  It  seemed  rather  an 
imprudent  outlay,  considering  his  small  cap- 
ital ;  but  he  had  good  hopes  of  carrying  off  the 
prize,  and  that  would  be  a  great  lift  for  him. 
Seven  boys  entered  besides  Carl.  The  first  was 
Victor  Russell,  a  lad  of  fourteen,  whose  arrow 
went  three  feet  above  the  mark. 

"The  prize  is  mine  if  r.oue  of  you  da  better 


80  Driven    from    Home. 

than   that,"   laughed   Victor,   good-naturedly. 

"I  hope  not,  for  the  credit  of  the  club,"  said 
the  president.  "Mr.  Crawford,  will  you  shoot 
next?" 

"I  would  prefer  to  be  the  last,"  said  Carl, 
modestly. 

"John  Livermore,  your  turn  now." 

John  came  a  little  nearer  than  his  predeces- 
sor, but  did  not  distinguish  himself. 

"If  that  is  a  specimen  of  the  skill  of  the 
clubmen,"  thought  Carl,  "my  chance  is  a  good 
one." 

Next  came  Frank  Stockton,  whose  arrow 
stuck  only  three  inches  from  the  center  of  the 
target. 

"Good  for  Fred!"  cried  Edward  Downie. 
"Just  wait  till  you  see  me  shoot !" 

"Are  you  a  dangerous  rival?"  asked  Carl, 
smiling. 

"I  can  hit  a  barn  door  if  I  am  only  near 
enough,"  replied  Edward. 

"Edward  Downie!"  called  the  president. 

Edward  took  his  bow  and  advanced  to  the 
proper  place,  bent  it,  and  the  arrow  sped  on 
its  way. 

There  was  a  murmur  of  surprise  when  his 
arrow  struck  only  an  inch  to  the  right  of  the 
centre.  No  one  was  more  amazed  than  Ed- 
ward himself,  for  he  was  accounted  far  from 
Skillful.     It  was  indeed  a  lucky  accident 


Driven   from    Home.  8f 

'  "What  do  you  say  to  that?"  asked  Edward, 
triumphantly. 

"I  think  the  prize  is  yours.  I  had  no  idea 
you  could  shoot  like  that,"  said  Carl. 

"Nor  I,"  rejoined  Edward,  laughing. 

"Carl  Crawford  J"  called  the  president. 

Carl  took  his  position,  and  bent  his  bow  with 
the  greatest  care.  He  exercised  unusual  de- 
liberation, for  success  meant  more  to  him  than 
to  any  of  the  others.  A  dollar  to  him  in  his 
present  circumstances  would  be  a  small  for- 
tune, while  the  loss  of  even  ten  cents  would  be 
sensibly  felt.  His  heart  throbbed  with  excite- 
ment as  he  let  the  arrow  speed  on  its 
mission. 

His  unusual  deliberation,  and  the  fact  that 
he  was  a  stranger,  excited  strong  interest,  and 
all  eyes  followed  the  arrow  with  eager  atten- 
tiveness. 

There  was  a  sudden  shout  of  irrepressible  ex- 
citement. 

Carl's  arrow  had  struck  the  bull's-eye  and 
the  prize  was  his. 

"Christopher!"  exclaimed  Edward  Downie, 
"you've  beaten  me,  after  all !" 

"I'm  almost  sorry,"  said  Carl,  apologetically, 
but  the  light  in  his  eyes  hardly  bore  out  the 
statement. 

"Never  mind.  Everybody  would  have  called 
it  a  fluke  if  I  had  won,"  said  Edward,     "I  ex* 


82  Driven   from    Home. 

pect  to  get  the  prize  for  the  long  jump.     I  am 
good  at  that." 

"So  am  I,  but  I  won't  compete;  I  will  leave 
it  to  you." 

"No,  no.     I  want  to  win  fair." 

Carl  accordingly  entered  his  name.  He  made 
the  second  best  jump,  but  Edward's  exceeded 
his  by  a  couple  of  inches,  and  the  prize  was 
adjudged  to  him. 

"I  have  my  revenge,"  he  said,  smiling.  "I 
am  glad  I  won,  for  it  wouldn't  have  been  to 
the  credit  of  the  club  to  have  an  outsider  carry 
off  two  prizes." 

"I  am  perfectly  satisfied,"  said  Carl;  "I 
ought  to  be,  for  I  did  not  expect  to  carry  off 
any." 

Carl  decided  not  to  compete  for  any  other 
prize.  He  had  invested  twenty  cents  and  got 
back  a  dollar,  which  left  him  a  profit  of  eighty 
cents.  This,  with  his  original  quarter,  made 
him  the  possessor  of  a  dollar  and  five  cents. 

"My  luck  seems  to  have  turned,"  he  said  to 
himself,  and  the  thought  gave  him  fresh  cour- 
age. 

It  was  five  o'clock  when  the  games  were 
over,  and  Carl  prepared  to  start  again  on  his 
journey. 

"Where  are  you  going  to  take  supper?"  asked 
Downie. 

"I— don't— know." 


Driven   from   Home.  83 

"Come  home  with  me.  W  you  are  in  no 
hurry,  you  may  as  well  stay  overnight,  and  go 
on  in  the  morning." 

"Are  you  sure  it  won't  inconvenience  you?" 

"Not  at  all." 

"Then  I'll  accept  with  thanks." 


84.  Driven   from   Home, 


CHAPTER  XIL 

AN    ODD    ACQUAINTANCE. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning  Carl 
started  again  on  his  way.  His  new  friend, 
Edward  Downie,  accompanied  him  for  a  mile, 
having  an  errand  at  that  distance. 

"I  wish  you  good  luck,  Carl,"  he  said,  ear- 
nestly. "When  you  come  this  way  again,  be 
sure  to  stop  in  and  see  me." 

"I  will  certainly  do  so,  but  I  hope  I  may 
find  employment."  % 

"At  any  rate,"  thought  Carl,  as  he  resumed 
his  journey  alone,  "I  am  better  off  than  I  was 
yesterday  morning.  Then  I  had  but  twenty- 
five  cents ;  now  I  have  a  dollar." 

This  was  satisfactory  as  far  as  it  went,  but 
Carl  was  sensible  that  he  was  making  no  prog- 
ress in  his  plan  of  earning  a  living.  He  was 
simply  living  from  hand  to  mouth,  and  but  for 
good  luck  he  would  have  had  to  go  hungry,  and 
perhaps  have  been  obliged  to  sleep  out  doors. 
What  he  wanted  was  employment. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when,  looking  along 
the  roadj  his  curiosity  was  excited  by  a  man 


Driven    from    Home.  85 

of  very  unusual  figure  a  few  rods  in  advance 
of  him  He  looked  no  taller  than  a  boy  of  ten ; 
but  his  frame  was  large,  his  shoulders  broad, 
and  his  arms  were  of  unusual  length.  He 
might  properly  be  called  a  dwarf. 

"I  am  glad  I  am  not  so  small  as  that," 
thought  Carl.  "I  am  richer  than  he  in  having 
a  good  figure.  I  should  not  like  to  excite  at- 
tention wherever  I  go  by  being  unusually  large 
or  unusually  small." 

Some  boys  would  have  felt  inclined  to  laugh 
at  the  queer  figure,  but  Carl  had  too  much  good 
feeling.  His  curiosity  certainly  was  aroused, 
and  he  thought  he  would  like  to  get  acquainted 
with  the  little  man,  whose  garments  of  fine 
texture  showed  that,  though  short  in  stature, 
he  was  probably  long  in  purse.  He  didn't 
quite  know  how  to  pave  the  way  for  an  ac- 
quaintance, but  circumstances  favored  him. 

The  little  man  drew  out  a  handkerchief  from 
the  side  pocket  of  his  overcoat.  With  it  flut- 
tered out  a  bank  bill,  which  fell  to  the  ground 
apparently  unobserved  by  the  owner. 

Carl  hurried  on,  and,  picking  up  the  bill, 
said  to  the  small  stranger  as  he  touched  his 
arm :  "Here  is  some  money  you  just  dropped, 
sir." 

The  little  man  turned  round  and  smiled 
pleasantly. 

"Thank  you.     Are  you  sure  it  is  mine?" 


86  Driven   from    Home. 

"Yes,  sir;  it  came  out  with  your  handker- 
chief." 

"Let  me  see.  So  it  is  mine.  I  was  very 
careless  to  put  it  loose  in  my  pocket." 

"You  were  rather  careless,  sir." 

"Of  what  denomination  is  it?' 

"It  is  a  two-dollar  note." 

"If  you  had  been  a  poor  boy,"  said  the  lit- 
tle man,  eying  Carl  keenly,  "you  might  have 
been  tempted  to  keep  it.  I  might  not  have 
known." 

Carl  smiled. 

"What  makes  you  think  I  am  not  a  poor 
boy?"  he  said. 

"You  are  well  dressed." 

"That  is  true;  but  all  the  money  I  have  is 
a  dollar  and  five  cents." 

"You  know  where  to  get  more?  You  havd 
a  good  home?" 

"I  had  a  home,  but  now  I  am  thrown  on  my 
own  exertions,"  said  Carl,  soberly. 

"Dear  me!  That  is  bad!  If  I  were  better 
acquainted,  I  might  ask  more  particularly 
how  this  happens.     Are  you  an  orphan?" 

"No,  sir;  my  father  is  living." 

"And  your  mother  is  dead?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Is  your  father  a  poor  man?" 

"No,  sir;  he  is  moderately  rich." 

"Yet  you  have  to  fight  your  own  way?" 


Driven    from    Home.  87 

"Yes,  sir.     I  have  a  stepmother." 

"I  see.  Are  you  sure  you  are  rot  unreason- 
ably prejudiced  against  your  stepmother?  All 
stepmothers  are  not  bad  or  unkind." 

"I  know  that,  sir." 

"Yours  is,  I  presume?'' 

"You  can  judge  for  yourself." 

Carl  recited  some  incidents  in  his  experience 
with  his  stepmother.  The  stranger  listened 
with  evident  interest. 

"I  am  not  in  general  in  favor  of  boys 
leaving  home  except  on  extreme  provocation," 
he  said,  after  a  pause;  "but  in  your  case,  as 
your  father  seems  to  take  part  against  you, 
I  think  you  may  be  justified,  especially  as,  at 
your  age,  you  have  a  fair  chance  of  making 
your  own  living." 

"I  am  glad  you  think  that,  sir.  I  have  be- 
gun to  wonder  whether  I  have  not  acted 
rashly." 

"In  undertaking  to  support  yourself?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Sixteen." 

"At  fourteen  I  was  obliged  to  undertake 
what  you  have  now  before  you." 

"To  support  yourself?" 

"Yes ;  I  was  left  an  orphan  at  fourteen,  with 
no  money  left  me  by  my  poor  father,  and  no 
relatives  who  could  help  me." 


88  Driven   from    Home, 

"How  did  you  make  out,  sir?"  asked  Carl, 
feeling  very  much  interested. 

"I  sold  papers  for  a  while — in  Newark,  New 
Jersey — then  I  got  a  place  at  three  dollars 
a  week,  out  of  which  I  had  to  pay  for  board, 
lodging  and  clothes.  Well,  I  won't  go  through 
my  history.  I  will  only  say  that  whatever  I 
did  I  did  as  well  as  I  could.  I  am  now  a  man 
of  about  middle  age,  and  I  am  moderately 
wealthy." 

"I  am  very  much  encouraged  by  what  you 
tell  me,  sir." 

"Perhaps  you  don't  understand  what  a  hard 
struggle  I  had.  More  than  once  I  have  had 
to  go  to  bed  hungry.  Sometimes  I  have  had 
to  sleep  out,  but  one  mustn't  be  afraid  to  rough 
it  a  little  when  he  is  young.  I  shouldn't  like  to 
sleep  out  now,  or  go  to  bed  without  my  sup- 
per," and  the  little  man  laughed  softly. 

"Yes,  sir ;  I  expect  to  rough  it,  but  if  I  could 
only  get  a  situation,  at  no  matter  what  income, 
I  should  feel  encouraged." 

"You  have  earned  no  money  yet?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  earned  a  dollar  yesterday." 

"At  what  kind  of  work?" 

"Archery." 

The  little  man  looked  surprised. 

"Is  that  a  business?"  he  asked,  curiously. 

"I'll  explain  how  it  was,"  aad  Carl  told 
about  the  contest 


Driven    from    Home.  89 

"So  you  hit  the  mark?"  said  the  little  man, 
significantly. 

Somehow,  there  was  something  in  the  lit- 
tle man's  tone  that  put  new  courage  into  Carl, 
and  incited  him  to  fresh  effort. 

"I  wonder,  sir,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "that 
you  should  be  walking,  when  you  can  well  af 
ford  to  ride." 

The  little  man  smiled. 

"It  is  by  advice  of  my  physician,"  he  said. 
"He  tells  me  I  am  getting  too  stout,  and  ought 
to  take  more  or  less  exercise  in  the  open  air. 
So  I  am  trying  to  follow  his  advice" 

"Are  you  in  business  near  here,  sir?" 

"At  a  large  town  six  miles  distant.  I  may 
not  walk  all  the  way  there,  but  I  have  a  place 
to  call  at  near  by,  and  thought  I  would  avail 
myself  of  the  good  chance  offered  to  take  a 
little  exercise.  I  feel  repaid.  I  have  made  a 
pleasant  acquaintance." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"There  is  my  card,"  and  the  little  man  tooK 
out  a  business  card,  reading  thus  • 

HENRY  JENNINGS, 

Furniture  Warehouse, 
Milford. 

"I  manufacture  my  furniture  in  the  coun- 
try," he  continued,  "but  I  ship  it  by  special  ar- 


9<3  Driven    from    Home. 

rangements  to  a  house  in  New  York  in  which 
I  am  also  interested." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  see.  Do  you  employ  many  per- 
sons in  your  establishment?" 

"About  thirty." 

"Do  you  think  you  could  make  room  for 
me?" 

"Do  you  think  you  would  like  the  business?" 

"I  am  prepared  to  like  any  business  in  which 
I  can  make  a  living." 

"That  is  right.  That  is  the  way  to  look  at 
it.    Let  me  think." 

For  two  minutes  Mr.  Jennings  seemed  to  be 
plunged  in  thought.  Then  he  turned  and 
smiled  encouragingly. 

"You  can  come  home  with  me,"  lie  said,  "and 
I  will  consider  the  matter." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Carl,  gladly. 

"I  have  got  to  make  a  call  at  the  next  house, 
not  on  business,  though.  There  is  an  old  school- 
mate lying  there  sick.  I  am  afraid  he  is  rather 
poor,  too.  You  can  walk  on  slowly,  and  I  will 
overtake  you  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"After  walking  half  a  mile,  if  I  have  not 
overtaken  you,  you  may  sit  down  under  a  tree 
wid  wait  for  me." 

"All  right,  sir." 

"Before  I  leave  you  I  will  tell  you  a  secret." 

"What  is  it,  sir?" 


Driven    from    Home.  91 

"The  two  dollars  you  picked  up,  I  dropped 
on  purpose." 

"On  purpose?"'  asked  Carl,  in  amazement. 

"Yes ;  I  wanted  to  try  you,  to  see  if  you  were 
honest." 

"Then  yon  had  noticed  me?" 

"Yes.  I  liked  your  appearance,  but  I  wanted 
to  test  you." 


92  Driven    from    Home. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AN     UNEQUAL     CONTEST. 

Carl  walked  on  slowly.  He  felt  encouraged 
by  the  prospect  of  work,  for  he  was  sure  that 
Mr.  Jennings  would  make  a  place  for  him,  if 
possible. 

"He  is  evidently  a  kind-hearted  man,"  Carl 
reflected.  "Besides,  he  has  been  poor  himself, 
and  he  can  sympathize  with  me.  The  wages 
may  be  small,  but  I  won't  mind  that,  if  I  can 
only  support  myself  economically,  and  get  on." 

To  most  boys  brought  up  in  comfort,  not  to 
say  luxury,  the  prospect  of  working  hard  for 
small  pay  would  not  have  seemed  inviting.  But 
Carl  was  essentially  manly,  and  had  sensible 
ideas  about  labor.  It  was  no  sacrifice  or  hu- 
miliation to  him  to  become  a  working  boy, 
for  he  had  never  considered  himself  superior 
to  working  boys,  as  many  boys  in  his  position 
would  have  done. 

He  walked  on  in  a  leisurely  manner,  and  at 
the  end  of  ten  minutes  thought  he  had  bet- 
ter sit  down  and  wait  for  Mr.  Jennings.  But 
he  was  destined  to  receive  a  shock.    There,  un- 


Driven   from   Home.  93 

der  the  tree  which  seemed  to  offer  the  most 
inviting  shelter,  reclined  a  figure  only  too  well- 
known. 

It  was  the  tramp  who  the  day  before  had 
compelled  him  to  surrender  the  ten-dollar  bill. 

The  ill-looking  fellow  glanced  up,  and  when 
his  gaze  rested  upon  Carl,  his  face  beamed 
with  savage  joy. 

"So  it's  you,  is  it?"  he  said,  rising  from  his 
seat. 

"Yes,"  answered  Carl,  doubtfully. 

"Do  you  remember  me?" 

"Yes." 

"I  have  cause  to  remember  you,  my  chicken. 
That  was  a  mean  trick  you  played  upon  me," 
and  he  nodded  his  head  significantly. 

"I  should  think  it  was  you  that  played  the 
trick  on  me." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?"  growled  the 
tramp. 

"You  took  my  money." 

"So  I  did,  and  much  good  it  did  me." 

Carl  was  silent. 

"You  know  why,  don't  you?" 

Carl  might  have  denied  that  he  knew  the 
character  of  the  bill  which  was  stolen  from 
him,  but  I  am  glad  to  say  that  it  would  have 
come  from  him  with  a  very  ill  grace,  for  he 
was  accustomed  to  tell  the  truth  under  all  eir- 
eumstances, 


94  Driven    from    Home. 

"You  knew  that  the  bill  was  counterfeit, 
didn't  you?"  demanded  the  tramp,  fiercely. 

"I  was  told  so  at  the  hotel  where  I  offered 
it  in  payment  for  my  bill." 

"Yet  you  passed  it  on  me!" 

"I  didn't  pass  it  on  you.    You  took  it  from 
me,"  retorted  Carl,  with  spirit. 

"That  makes  no  difference." 

"I  think  it  does.  I  wouldn't  have  offered 
it  to  anyone  in  payment  of  an  honest  bill." 

"Humph!  you  thought  because  I  was  poor 
and  unfortunate  you  could  pass  it  off  on  me !" 

This  seemed  so  grotesque  that  Carl  found 
it  difficult  not  to  laugh. 

"Do  you  know  it  nearly  got  me  into  trou- 
ble?" went  on  the  tramp. 

"How  was  that?" 

"I  stopped  at  a  baker's  shop  to  get  a  lunch. 
When  I  got  through  I  offered  the  bill.  The 
old  Dutchman  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  he 
looked  first  at  the  bill,  then  at  me.  Then  he 
threatened  to  have  me  arrested  for  passing  bad 
money.  I  told  him  I'd  go  out  in  the  back  yard 
and  settle  it  with  him.  I  tell  you,  boy,  I'd 
have  knocked  him  out  in  one  round,  and  he 
knew  it,  so  he  bade  me  be  gone  and  never 
darken  his  door  again.    Where  did  you  get 

it?" 

"It  was  passed  on  me  by  a  man  I  was  trav» 

eling  with," 


Driven    from    Home.  95 

"How  much  other  money  have  you  got?" 
asked  the  tramp. 

"Very  little." 

"Give  it  to  me,  whatever  it  is." 

This  was  a  little  too  much  for  Carl's  pa- 
tience. 

"I  have  no  money  to  spare,"  he  said,  shortly. 

"Say  that  over  again  I"  said  the  tramp,  men- 
acingly. 

"If  you  don't  understand  me,  I  will.  I  have 
no  money  to  spare." 

"You'll  spare  it  to  me,  I  reckon." 

"Look  here,"  said  Carl,  slowly  backing. 
''You've  robbed  me  of  ten  dollars.  You'll  have 
to  be  satisfied  with  that." 

"It  was  no  good.  It  might  have  sent  me 
to  prison.  If  I  was  nicely  dressed  I  might 
pass  it,  but  when  a  chap  like  me  offers  a  ten- 
dollar  bill  it's  sure  to  be  looked  at  sharply. 
I  haven't  a  cent,  and  I'll  trouble  you  to  hand 
over  all  you've  got  " 

"Why  don't  you  work  for  a  living?  You 
are  a  strong,  able-bodied  man." 

"You'll  find  I  am  if  you  give  me  any  more 
of  your  palaver." 

Carl  saw  that  the  time  of  negotiation  was 
past,  and  that  active  hostilities  were  about  to 
commence.  Accordingly  he  turned  and  ran, 
not  forward,  but  in  the  reverse  direction,  hop- 
ing in  this  way  to  meet  with  Mr.  Jennings. 


96  Driven    from    Home. 

"Ah,  that's  your  game,  is  it?''  growled  the 
tramp.  "You  needn't  expect  to  escape,  for  I'll 
overhaul  you  in  two  minutes." 

So  Carl  ran,  and  his  rough  acquaintance  ran 
after  him. 

It  could  hardly  be  expected  that  a  boy  of 
sixteen,  though  stout  and  strong,  could  get 
away  from  a  tall,  powerful  man  like  the  tramp. 

Looking  back  over  his  shoulder,  Carl  saw 
that  the  tramp  was  but  three  feet  behind,  and 
almost  able  to  lay  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

He  dodged  dexterously,  and  in  trying  to  do 
the  same  the  tramp  nearly  fell  to  the  ground. 
Naturally,  this  did  not  sweeten  his  temper. 

"I'll  half  murder  you  when  I  get  hold  of 
you,"  he  growled,  in  a  tone  that  bodied  ill  for 
Carl. 

The  latter  began  to  pant,  and  felt  that  he 
could  not  hold  out  much  longer.  Should  he 
surrender  at  discretion? 

"If  some  one  would  only  come  along,"  was 
his  inward  aspiration.  "This  man  will  take 
my  money  and  beat  me,  too." 

As  if  in  reply  to  his  fervent  prayer  the  small 
figure  of  Mr.  Jennings  appeared  suddenly, 
rounding  a  curve  in  the  road. 

"Save  me,  save  me,  Mr.  Jennings!"  cried 
Carl,  running  up  to  the  little  man  for  protec- 
tion. 

"What  is  the  matter?    Who  is  this  fellow?" 


Driven   from    Home.  97 

asked  Mr.  Jennings,  in  a  deep  voice  for  so 
small  a  man. 

"That  tramp  wants  to  rob  me." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself!  He  won't  do  it," 
said  Jennings,  calmly. 


98  Driven    from   Home. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CARL  ARRIVES  IN  MILFORD. 

The  tramp  stopped  short,  and  eyed  Carl's 
small  defender,  first  with  curious  surprise,  and 
then  with  derision. 

"Out  of  my  way,  you  midget!"  he  cried,  "or 
I'll  hurt  you." 

"Try  it!"  said  the  little  man,  showing  no 
sign  of  fear. 

"Why,  you're  eo  bigger  than  a  kid.  I  can 
upset  you  with  one  finger." 

He  advanced  contemptuously,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  dwarf.  In  an 
instant  Jennings  had  swung  his  flail-like  arms, 
and  before  the  tramp  understood  what  was 
happening  he  was  lying  flat  on  his  back,  as 
much  to  Carl's  amazement  as  his  own. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet  with  an  execration, 
and  advanced  again  to  the  attack.  To  be  up- 
set by  such  a  pigmy  was  the  height  of  morti* 
fication. 

"I'm  going  to  crush  you,  you  mannikin!', 
he  threatened. 


Driven    from    Home.  99 

Jennings  put.  himself  on  guard.  Like  many 
small  men,  he  was  very  powerful,  as  his  broad 
shoulders  and  sinewy  arms  would  Imve  made 
evident  to  a  teacher  of  gymnastics.  He  clearly 
understood  that  this  opponent  was  in  deadly 
earnest,  and  he  put  out  all  the  strength  which 
he  possessed.  The  result  was  that  his  large- 
framed  antagonist  went  down  once  more,  strik- 
ing his  head  with  a  force  that  nearly  stunned 
him. 

It  so  happened  that  at  this  juncture  rein- 
forcements arrived.  A  sheriff  and  his  deputy 
drove  up  in  an  open  buggy,  and,  on  witnessing 
the  encounter,  halted  their  carriage  and  sprang 
to  the  ground. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Jennings?"  asked 
the  sheriff,  respectfully,  for  the  little  man  was 
a  person  of  importance  in  that  vicinity. 

"That  gentleman  is  trying  to  extort  a  forced 
loan,  Mr.  Cunningham." 

"Ha!  a  footpad?" 

"Yes." 

The  sheriff  sprang  to  the  side  of  the  tramp, 
who  was  trying  to  rise,  and  in  a  trice  his  wrists 
were  confined  by  handcuffs. 

"I  think  I  know  you,  Mike  Frost,"  he  said. 
"You  are  up  to  your  old  tricks.  When  did  you 
come  out  of  Sing  Sing?" 

"Three  weeks  since,"  answered  the  tramp, 
sullenly. 


ioo  Driven    from    Home. 

"They  want  you  back  there.  Come  along 
with  ine!" 

He  was  assisted  into  the  buggy,  and  spent 
that  night  in  the  lockup. 

"Did  he  take  anything  from  you,  Carl?" 
asked  Mr.  Jennings. 

"No,  sir;  but  I  was  in  considerable  danger. 
How  strong  you  are!"  he  added,  admiringly. 

"Strength  isn't  always  according  to  size!" 
said  the  little  man,  quietly.  "Nature  gave  me 
a  powerful,  though  small,  frame,  and  I  have 
increased  my  strength  by  gymnastic  exercise." 

Mr.  Jennings  did  not  show  the  least  excite- 
ment after  his  desperate  contest.  He  had  at- 
tended to  it  as  a  matter  of  business,  and  when 
over  he  suffered  it  to  pass  out  of  his  mind.  He 
took  out  his  watch  and  noted  the  time. 

"It  is  later  than  I  thought,"  he  said.  "I 
think  I  shall  have  to  give  up  my  plan  of  walk- 
ing the  rest  of  the  way." 

"Then  I  shall  be  left  alone,"  thought  Carl 
regretfully. 

Just  then  a  man  overtook  them  in  a  carriage. 

He  greeted  Mr.  Jennings  respectfully. 

"Are  you  out  for  a  long  walk?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  but  I  find  time  is  passing  too  rapidly 
with  me.     Are  you  going  to  Milford?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Can  you  take  two  passengers?' 

"You  and  the  boy?" 


Driven   from    Home.  101 

"Yes;  of  course  I  will  see  that  you  don't  lose 
by  it." 

"I  ought  not  to  charge  you  anything,  Mr. 
Jennings.  Several  times  you  have  done  me 
favors." 

"And  I  hope  to  again,  but  this  is  business. 
If  a  dollar  will  pay  you,  the  boy  and  I  will  ride 
with  you." 

"It  will  be  so  much  gain,  as  I  don't  go  out 
of  my  way." 

"You  can  take  the  back  seat,  Carl,"  said 
Mr.  Jennings.     "I  will  sit  with  Mr.  Leach." 

They  were  soon  seated  and  on  their  way. 

"Relative  of  yours,  Mr.  Jennings?"  asked 
Leach,  with  a  backward  glance  at  Carl. 

Like  most  country  folks,  he  was  curious 
about  people.  Those  who  live  in  cities  meet 
too  many  of  their  kind  to  feel  an  interest  in 
strangers. 

"No;  a  young  friend,"  answered  Jennings, 
briefly. 

"Goin'  to  visit  you?" 

"Yes,  I  think  he  will  stay  with  me  for  a 
time." 

Then  the  conversation  touched  upon  Milford 
matters  in  which  at  present  Carl  was  not  in- 
terested. 

After  his  fatiguing  walk  our  hero  enjoyed 
the  sensation  of  riding.  The  road  was  a  pleas- 
ant one,  the  day  was  bright  with  sunshine  and 


102  Driven    from    Home. 

the  air  vocal  with  the  songs  of  birds.  Foi  a 
time  houses  were  met  at  rare  intervals,  but 
after  a  while  it  became  evident  that  they  were 
approaching  a  town  of  considerable  size. 

"Is  this  Milford,  Mr.  Jennings?"  asked  Carl. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  little  man,  turning  with 
a  pleasant  smile. 

"How  large  is  it?" 

"I  think  there  are  twelve  thousand  inhab- 
itants. It  is  what  Western  people  call  a  'right 
smart  place.'  It  has  been  my  home  for  twenty 
years,  and  I  am  much  attached  to  it." 

"And  it  to  you,  Mr.  Jennings/'  put  in  the 
driver. 

"That  is  pleasant  to  hear,"  said  Jennings, 
with  a  smile. 

"It  is  true.  There  are  few  people  here  whom 
you  have  not  befriended." 

"That  is  what  we  are  here  for,  is  it  not?" 

"I  wish  all  were  of  your  opinion.  Why,  Mr. 
Jennings,  when  Ave  get  a  city  charter  I  think 
I  know  who  will  be  the  first  mayor." 

"Not  I,  Mr.  Leach.  My  own  business  is  all 
I  can  well  attend  to.  Thank  you  for  your  com- 
pliment, though.  Carl,  do  you  see  yonder 
building?" 

He  pointed  to  a  three-story  structure,  a 
frame  building,  occupying  a  prominent  posi- 
tion. 

"Yes,  sir." 


Driven    from    Home.  103 

"That  is  ray  manufactory.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?"  " 

"I  shouldn't  think  a  town  of  this  size  would 
require  so  large  an  establishment,"  answered 
Carl. 

Mr.  Jennings  laughed. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said.  "If  I  depended  on 
Milford  trade,  a  very  small  building  would  be 
sufficient.  My  trade  is  outside.  I  supply 
many  dealers  in  New  York  City  and  a  I  the 
West.  My  retail  trade  is  small.  If  any  of  my 
neighbors  want  furniture  they  naturally  come 
to  me,  and  I  favor  them  as  to  price  out  of 
friendly  feeling,  but  I  am  a  manufacturer  and 
wholesale  dealer." 

"I  see,  sir." 

"Shall  I  take  you  to  your  house,  Mr.  Jen- 
nings?" asked  Leach. 

"Yes,  if  you  please." 

Leach  drove  on  till  he  reached  a  two-story 
building  of  Quaker-like  simplicity,  but  with  a 
large,  pleasant  yard  in  front,  with  here  and 
there  a  bed  of  flowers.  Here  he  stopped  his 
horse. 

"We  have  reached  our  destination,  Carl," 
said  Mr.  Jennings.  "You  are  active.  Jump 
out  and  I  will  follow." 

Carl  needed  no  second  invitation.  He  sprang 
from  the  carriage  and  went  forward  to  help 
Mr.  Jennings  out. 


io4  Driven    from    Home. 

"No,  thank  you,  Carl,"  said  the  little  man. 
"I  am  more  active  than  you  think.  Here  we 
are !" 

He  descended  nimbly  to  the  ground,  and, 
drawing  a  one-dollar  bill  from  his  pocket, 
handed  it  to  the  driver. 

"I  don't  like  to  take  it,  Mr.  Jennings,"  said 
Mr.  Leach. 

"Why  not?  The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his 
hire.     Now,  Carl,  let  us  go  into  the  house." 


Driven    from    Home.  I<K 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MR.  JENNINGS  AT  HOME. 

Mr.  Jennings  did  not  need  to  open  the  door. 
He  had  scarcely  set  foot  on  the  front  step  when 
it  was  opened  from  inside,  and  Carl  found  a 
fresh  surprise  in  store  for  him.  A  woman,  ap- 
parently six  feet  in  height,  stood  on  the  thresh- 
old. Her  figure  was  spare  and  ungainly,  and 
her  face  singularly  homely,  but  the  absence 
of  beauty  was  partially  made  up  by  a  kindly 
expression.  She  looked  with  some  surprise  at 
Carl. 

"This  is  a  young  friend  of  mine,  Hannah," 
said  her  master.     "Welcome  him  for  my  sake." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Hannah,  in  a 
voice  that  was  another  amazement.  It  was 
deeper  than  that  of  most  men. 

As  she  spoke,  she  held  out  a  large  masculine 
hand,  which  Carl  took,  as  seemed  to  be  ex- 
pected. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Carl. 

"What  am  I  to  call  you?"  asked  Hannah. 

"Carl  Crawford," 


io6  Driven    from    Home. 

"That's  a  strange  name." 

"It  is  not  common,  I  believe." 

"You  two  will  get  acquainted  by  and  by," 
said  Mr.  Jennings.  "The  most  interesting 
question  at  present  is,  when  will  dinner  be 
ready?" 

"In  ten  minutes,"  answered  Hannah, 
promptly. 

"Carl  and  I  are  both  famished.  We  have 
had  considerable  exercise,"  here  he  nodded  at 
Carl  with  a  comical  look,  and  Carl  understood 
that  he  referred  in  part  to  his  contest  with  the 
tramp. 

Hannah  disappeared  into  the  kitchen,  and 
Mr.  Jennings  said:  "Come  upstairs,  Carl.  I 
will  show  you  your  ioom." 

Up  an  old-fashioned  stairway  Carl  followed 
his  host,  and  the  latter  opened  the  door  of  a 
side  room  on  the  first  landing.  It  was  not 
large,  but  was  neat  and  comfortable.  There 
was  a  cottage  bedstead,  a  washstpnd,  a  small 
bureau  and  a  couple  of  chairs. 

"I  hope  you  will  come  to  feel  at  home  here," 
said  Mr.  Jennings,  kindly. 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  am  sure  I  shall,"  Carl 
responded,  gratefully. 

"There  are  some  nails  to  hang  your  clothing 
on,"  went  on  Mr.  Jennings,  and  then  he  stopped 
short,  for  it  was  clear  that  CarFs  small  grip- 
sack could  not  contain  an  extra  suit,  and  he 


Driven    from    Home.  107 

felt  delicate  at  calling  up  in  the  boy's  mind 
the  thought  of  his  poverty. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Carl.  "I  left  my 
trunk  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  and  if  you 
should  succeed  in  finding  me  a  place,  I  will 
send  for  it." 

"That  is  well !"  returned  Mr.  Jennings,  look- 
ing relieved.  "Now  I  will  leave  you  for  a  few 
moments.  You  will  find  water  and  towels, 
in  case  you  wish  to  wash  before  dinner." 

Carl  was  glad  of  the  opportunity.  He  was 
particular  about  his  personal  appearance,  and 
he  felt  hot  and  dusty.  He  bathed  his  face  and 
hands,  carefully  dusted  his  suit,  brushed  his 
hair,  and  was  ready  to  descend  when  he  heard 
the  tinkling  of  a  small  bell  at  the  foot  of  the 
front  stairs. 

He  readily  found  his  way  into  the  neat  din- 
ing-room at  the  rear  of  the  parlor.  Mr.  Jen- 
nings sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  a  little  giant, 
diminutive  in  stature,  but  with  broad  shoul- 
ders, a  large  head,  and  a  powerful  frame.  Op- 
posite him  sat  Hannah,  tall,  stiff  and  upright 
as  a  grenadier.  She  formed  a  strange  contrast 
to  her  employer. 

"I  wonder  what  made  him  hire  such  a  tall 
woman?"  thought  Carl.  "Being  so  small  him- 
self, her  size  makes  him  look  smaller." 

There  was  a  chair  at  one  side,  placed  for 
Carl. 


io8  Driven    from    Home. 

"Sit  down  there,  Carl,"  said  Mr.  Jennings. 
"I  won't  keep  you  waiting  any  longer  than 
I  can  help.  What  have  you  given  us  to-day, 
Hannah?" 

"Roast  beef,"  answered  Hannah,  in  her  deep 
tones. 

"There  is  nothing  better." 

The  host  cut  off  a  liberal  slice  for  Carl,  and 
passed  the  plate  to  Hannah,  who  supplied  po- 
tatoes, peas  and  squash.  Carl's  mouth  fairly 
watered  as  he  watched  the  hospitable  prepara- 
tions for  his  refreshment. 

"I  never  trouble  myself  about  what  we  are 
to  have  on  the  table,"  said  Mr.  Jennings. 
"Hannah  always  sees  to  that.  She's  knows  just 
what  I  want.  She  is  a  capital  cook,  too,  Han- 
nah is." 

Hannah  looked  pleased  at  this  compliment. 

"You  are  easily  pleased,  master,"  she  said. 

"I  should  be  hard  to  suit  if  I  were  not 
pleased  with  your  cooking.  You  don't  know 
so  well  Carl's  taste,  but  if  there  is  anything 
he  likes  particularly  he  can  tell  you." 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir,"  said  Carl. 

"There  are  not  many  men  who  would  treat 
a  poor  boy  so  considerately,"  he  thought.  "He 
makes  me  an  honored  guest." 

When  dinner  was  over,  Mr.  Jenning*    in 
vited  Carl  to  accompany  him  on  a  walk.     They 
passed  along  the  principal  street,  nearly  every 


Driven    from    Home.  109 

person  they  met  giving  the  little  man  a  cor- 
dial greeting. 

"He  seems  to  be  very  popular,"  thought  Carl. 

At  length  they  reached  the  manufactory.  Mr. 
Jennings  went  into  the  office,  followed  by 
Carl. 

A  slender,  dark-complexioned  man,  about 
thirty-five  years  of  age,  sat  on  a  stool  at  a  high 
desk.     He  was  evidently  the  bookkeeper. 

"Any  letters,  Mr.  Gibbon?"  asked  Mr.  Jen- 
nings. 

"Yes,  sir;  here  are  four." 

"Where  are  they  from?" 

"From  New  York,  Chicago,  Pittsburg  and 
New  Haven." 

"What  do  they  relate  to?" 

"Orders.  I  have  handed  them  to  Mr.  Pot- 
ter." 

Potter,  as  Carl  afterwards  learned,  was  su- 
perintendent of  the  manufactory,  and  had  full 
charge  of  practical  details. 

"Is  there  anything  requiring  my  personal 
attention?" 

"No,  sir;  I  don't  think  so." 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Gibbon,  let  me  introduce 
you  to  a  young  friend  of  mine — Carl  Craw- 
ford." 

The  bookkeeper  rapidly  scanned  Carl's  face 
and  figure.  It  seemed  to  Carl  that  the  scrutiny 
was  not  a  friendly  one. 


1 10  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Gibbon, 
coldly. 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Jennings,"  said  the  book- 
keeper, "I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you." 

"Go  on,  Mr.  Gibbon,"  rejoined  his  employer, 
in  a  cordial  tone. 

"Two  months  since  you  gave  my  nephew, 
Leonard  Craig,  a  place  in  the  factory." 

"Yes;  I  remember." 

"I  don't  think  the  work  agrees  with  him." 

"He  seemed  a  strong,  healthy  boy." 

"He  has  never  been  used  to  confinement,  and 
it  affects  him  unpleasantly." 

"Does  he  wish  to  resign  his  place?" 

"I  have  been  wondering  whether  you  would 
not  be  willing  to  transfer  him  to  the  office. 
I  could  send  him  on  errands,  to  the  post  office, 
and  make  him  useful  in  various  ways." 

"I  had  not  supposed  an  office  boy  was  needed. 
Still,  if  you  desire  it,  I  will  try  your  nephew 
in  the  place." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"I  am  bound  to  tell  you,  however,  that  his 
present  place  is  a  better  one.  He  is  learn- 
ing a  good  trade,  which,  if  he  masters  it,  will 
always  give  him  a  livelihood.  I  learned  a 
trade,  and  owe  all  I  have  to  that." 

"True,  Mr.  Jennings,  but  there  are  other 
ways  of  earning  a  living." 


Driven    from    Home.  in 

"Certainly." 

"And  I  thought  of  giving  Leonard  evening 
instruction  in  bookkeeping." 

"That  alters  the  ease.  Good  bookkeepers  are 
always  in  demand.  I  have  no  objection  to 
your  trying  the  experiment." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"Have  you  mentioned  the  matter  to  your 
nephew?" 

"I  just  suggested  that  I  would  ask  you,  but 
could  not  say  what  answer  you  would  give." 

"It  would  have  been  better  not  to  mention 
the  matter  at  all  till  you  could  tell  him  defi- 
nitely that  he  could  change  his  place." 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,  sir.  How- 
ever, it  is  all  right  now." 

"Now,  Carl,"  said  Mr.  Jennings,  "I  will 
take  you  into  the  workroom." 


j  12  Driven    from    Home. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CARL     GETS     A     PLACE. 

"I  suppose  that  is  the  bookkeeper,"  said 
Carl. 

"Yes.  He  has  been  with  me  three  years.  He 
understands  his  business  well.  You  heard 
what  he  said  about  his  nephew?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"It  is  his  sister's  son — a  boy  of  about  your 
own  age.  I  think  he  is  making  a  mistake  in 
leaving  the  factory,  and  going  into  the  office. 
He  will  have  little  to  do,  and  that  not  of  a 
character  to  give  him  knowledge  of  business." 

"Still,  if  he  takes  lessons  in  bookkeep- 
ing  " 

Mr.  Jennings  smiled. 

"The  boy  will  never  make  a  bookkeeper,"  he 
said.  "His  reason  for  desiring  the  change  is 
because  he  is  indolent.  The  world  has  no  room 
for  lazy  people." 

"I  wonder,  sir,  that  you  have  had  a  chance 
to  find  him  out" 

"Little  things  betray  a  boy's  nature,  or  a 
man's,  for  that  matter.    When  I  have  visited 


Driven   from    Home.  113 

the  workroom  I  have  noticed  Leonard,  and 
formed  my  conclusions.  He  is  not  a  boy  whom 
I  would  select  for  my  service,  but  I  have  taken 
him  as  a  favor  to  his  uncle.  I  presume  he  is 
without  means,  and  it  is  desirable  that  he 
should  pay  his  uncle  something  in  return  for 
the  home  which  he  gives  him." 

"How  much  do  you  pay  him,  sir,  if  it  is  not 
a  secret?" 

"Oh,  no;  he  receives  five  dollars  a  week  to 
begin  with.  I  will  pay  him  the  same  in  the 
office.  And  that  reminds  me;  how  would  you 
like  to  have  a  situation  in  the  factory?  Would 
you  like  to  take  Leonard's  place?" 

"Yes,  sir,  if  you  think  I  would  do." 

"I  feel  quite  sure  of  it.  Have  you  ever  done 
any  manual  labor?" 

"No,  sir." 

"I  suppose  you  have  always  been  to  school." 

"Yes,  sir." 
"You  are  a  gentleman's  son,"  proceeded  Mr. 
Jennings,  eying  Carl  attentively.     "How  will 
it  suit  you  to  become  a  working  boy?" 

"I  shall  like  it,"  answered  Carl,  promptly. 

"Don't  be  too  sure !  You  can  tell  better  after 
a  week  in  the  factory.  Those  in  my  employ 
work  ten  hours  a  day.  Leonard  Craig  doesn't 
like  it." 

"All  I  ask,  Mr.  Jennings,  is  that  you  give  me 
a  trial" 


ii4  Driven   from    Home. 

"That  is  fair,"  responded  the  little  man, 
looking  pleased.  "I  will  tell  yon  now  that, 
not  knowing  of  any  vacancy  in  the  factory, 
I  had  intended  to  give  you  the  place  in  the  of- 
fice which  Mr.  Gibbon  has  asked  for  his 
nephew.  It  would  have  been  a  good  deal  easier 
work." 

"I  shall  be  quite  satisfied  to  take  my  place 
in  the  factory." 

"Come  in,  then,  and  see  your  future  scene 
of  employment." 

They  entered  a  large  room,  occupying  nearly 
an  entire  floor  of  the  building.  Part  of  the 
space  was  filled  by  machinery.  The  number 
employed  Carl  estimated  roughly  at  twenty- 
five. 

Quite  near  the  door  was  a  boy,  who  bore 
some  personal  resemblance  to  the  bookkeeper. 
Carl  concluded  that  it  must  be  Leonard  Craig. 
The  boy  looked  round  as  Mr.  Jennings  entered, 
and  eyed  Carl  sharply. 

"How  are  you  getting  on,  Leonard?"  Mr. 
Jennings  asked. 

"Pretty  well,  sir;  but  the  machinery  makes 
my  head  ache." 

"Your  uncle  tells  me  that  your  employment 
docs  not  agree  with  you." 

"No,  sir;  I  don't  think  it  does." 

"He  would  like  to  have  you  in  the  office  with 
him.    Would  you  like  it,  also?" 


Driven    from    Home.  115 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Leonard,  eagerly. 

"Very  well.  You  may  report  for  duty  at  the 
office  to-morrow  morning.  This  boy  will  take 
your  place  here." 

Leonard  eyed  Carl  curiously,  not  cordially. 

"I  hope  you'll  like  it,"  he  said. 

"I  think  I  shall." 
.   "You  two  boys  must  get  acquainted,"  said 
Mr.  Jennings.     "Leonard,  this  is  Carl  Craw- 
ford." 

"Glad  to  know  you,"  said  Leonard,  coldly. 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  like  that  boy,"  thought 
Carl,  as  he  followed  Mr.  Jennings  to  another 
part  of  the  room. 


J 1 6  Driven    from   Home. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

CARL    ENTERS    THE    FACTORY. 

When  they  left  the  factory  Mr.  Jennings 
Slid,  with  a  smile: 

"Now  you  are  one  of  us,  Carl.  To-morrow 
you  begin  work." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,  sir." 

"You  don't  ask  what  salary  you  are  to  get." 

"I  am  willing  to  leave  that  to  you." 

"Suppose  we  say  two  dollars  a  week  and 
board — to  begin  with." 

"That  is  better  than  I  expected.  But  where 
am  I  to  board?" 

"At  my  house,  for  the  present,  if  that  will 
ruit  you." 

"I  shall  like  it  very  much,  if  it  won't  incon- 
venience you." 

"Hannah  is  the  one  to  be  inconvenienced, 
if  anyone.  I  had  a  little  conversation  with 
her  while  you  were  getting  ready  for  dinner. 
She  seems  to  have  taken  a  liking  for  you, 
though  she  doesn't  like  boys  generally.  As  for 
me,  it  will  make  the  home  brighter  to  have  a 


Driven   from    Home.  117 

young  person  in  it.  Hannah  and  I  are  old- 
fashioned  and  quiet,  and  the  neighbors  don't 
have  much  reason  to  complain  of  noise." 

"No,  sir;  I  should  think  not,"  said  Carl, 
with  a  smile. 

"There  is  one  thing  you  must  be  prepared 
for,  Carl,"  said  Mr.  Jennings,  after  a  pause. 

"What  is  that,  sir?" 

"Your  living  in  my  house — I  being  your  em- 
ployer— may  excite  jealousy  in  some.  I  think 
I  know  of  one  who  will  be  jealous." 

"Leonard  Craig?" 

"And  his  uncle.  However,  don't  borrow  any 
trouble  on  that  score.  I  hope  you  won't  take 
advantage  of  your  position,  and,  thinking  your- 
self a  favorite,  neglect  your  duties." 

"I  will  not,  sir." 

"Business  and  friendship  ought  to  be  kept 
apart." 

"That  is  right,  sir." 

"I  am  going  back  to  the  house,  but  you  may 
like  to  take  a  walk  about  the  village.  You 
will  feel  interested  in  it,  as  it  is  to  be  your  fu- 
ture home.  By  the  way,  it  may  be  well  for 
you  to  write  for  your  trunk.  You  can  order 
it  sent  to  my  house." 

"All  right,  sir;  I  will  do  so." 

He  went  to  the  post  office,  and,  buying  a  pos« 
tal  card,  wrote  to  his  friend,  Gilbert  Vance, 
as  follows : 


vi8  Driven    from    Home. 

"Dear  Gilbert: — Please  send  my  trunk  try 
express  to  me  at  Milford,  care  of  Henry  Jen- 
nings, Esq.  He  is  my  employer,  and  I  live  at 
his  house.  He  is  proprietor  of  a  furniture  fac- 
tory.    Will  write  further  particulars  soon. 

"Carl  Crawford." 

This  postal  carried  welcome  intelligence  to 
Gilbert,  who  felt  a  brotherly  interest  in  Carl. 
He  responded  by  a  letter  of  hearty  congratula- 
tion, and  forwarded  the  trunk  as  requested. 

Carl  reported  for  duty  the  next  morning, 
and,  though  a  novice,  soon  showed  that  he  was 
not  without  mechanical  skill. 

At  twelve  o'clock  all  the  factory  hands  had 
an  hour  off  for  dinner.  As  Carl  passed  into 
the  street  he  found  himself  walking  beside  the 
boy  whom  he  had  succeeded — Leonard  Craig. 

"Good-morning,  Leonard,"  said  Carl,  pleas- 
antly. 

"Good-morning.  Have  you  taken  my  place 
in  the  factory?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  think  you  shall  like  it?" 

"I  think  I  shall,  though,  of  course,  it  is 
rather  early  to  form  an  opinion." 

"I  didn't  like  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  don't  want  to  grow  up  a  workman.  I 
think  I  am  fit  for  something  better." 


Sf^rom    Home.  119 

"Mr.  Jennings  began  as  a  factory  hand." 

"I  suppose  he  had  a  taste  for  it.     I  haven't." 

"Then  you  like  your  present  position  bet- 
ter?" 

"Oh,  yes;  it's  more  genteel.  How  much  does 
Jennings  pay  you?" 

"Two  dollars  a  week  and  board." 

"How  is  that?    Where  do  you  board?" 

"With  him." 

"Oh !"  said  Leonard,  his  countenance  chang- 
ing. "So  you  are  a  favorite  with  the  boss,  are 
you?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  gave  me  warning  that 
he  should  be  just  as  strict  with  me  as  if  we 
were  strangers." 

"How  long  have  you  known  him?" 

Carl  smiled. 

"I  met  him  for  the  first  time  yesterday,"  he 
answered. 

"That's  very  queer." 

"Well,  perhaps  it  is  a  little  singular.,, 

"Are  you  a  poor  boy?" 

"I  have  to  earn  my  own  living." 

"I  see.  You  will  grow  up  a  common  work- 
man." 

"I  shall  try  to  rise  above  it.  I  am  not 
ashamed  of  the  position,  but  I  am  ambitious 
to  rise." 

"I  am  going  to  be  a  bookkeeper,"  said  Leon- 
ard.    "My  uncle  is  going  to  teach  me.  I  would 


120  Driven   from   Home. 

rather  be  a  bookkeeper  than  a  factory  hand." 

"Then  you  are  right  in  preparing  yourself 
for  such  a  post." 

Here  the  two  boys  separated,  as  they  were 
to  dine  in  different  places. 

Leonard  was  pleased  with  his  new  position. 
He  really  had  very  little  to  do.  Twice  a  day 
he  wTent  ta-the  post  office,  once  or  twice  to  the 
bank,  and  there  was  an  occasional  errand  be- 
sides. To  Carl  the  idleness  "would  have  been 
insupportable,  but  Leonard  was  naturally  in- 
dolent. He  sat  down  in  a  chair  by  the  win- 
dow, and  watched  the  people  go  by. 

The  first  afternoon  he  was  in  luck,  for  there 
was  a  dog  fight  in  the  street  outside.  He  seized 
his  hat,  went  out,  and  watched  the  canine  war- 
fare with  the  deepest  interest. 

"I  think  I  will  buy  you  a  system  of  book- 
keeping," said  his  uncle,  "and  you  can  study 
it  in  the  office." 

"Put  it  off  till  next  week,  Uncle  Julius.  I 
want  to  get  rested  from  the  factory  work." 

"It  seems  to  me,  Leonard,  yon  were  born 
lazy,"  said  his  uncle,  sharply. 

"I  don't  care  to  work  with  my  hands." 

"Do  you  care  to  work  at  all?" 

"I  should  like  to  be  a  bookkeeper." 

"Do  you  know  that  my  work  is  harder  and 
more  exhausting  than  that  of  a  workman  in 
the  factory?" 


Driven    from    Home.  1211 

"You  don't  want  to  exchange  with  him,  do 
?"  asked  Leonard. 

"No." 

"That's  where  I  agree  with  you." 

Mr.  Jennings  took  several  weekly  papers. 
Leonard  was  looking  over  the  columns  of  one 
of  them  one  day,  when  he  saw  the  advertise- 
ment of  a  gift  enterprise  of  a  most  attractive 
character.  The  first  prize  was  a  house  and 
grounds  valued  at  ten  thousand  dollars.  Fol- 
lowing were  minor  prizes,  among  them  one 
thousand  dollars  in  gold. 

Leonard's  fancy  was  captivated  by  the  bril- 
liant prospect  of  such  a  prize. 

"Price  of  tickets — only  one  dollar !"  he  read. 
"Think  of  getting  a  thousand  dollars  for  one! 
Oh,  if  I  could  only  be  the  lucky  one !" 

He  took  out  his  purse,  though  he  knew  be- 
forehand that  his  stock  of  cash  consisted  only 
of  two  dimes  and  a  nickel. 

"I  wonder  if  I  could  borrow  a  dollar  of  that 
boy  Carl !"  he  deliberated.  "I'll  speal.  to  him 
about  it." 

This  happened  more  than  a  week  after  Carl 
work  in  the  factory.     He  had  already 
received  one  week's  pay,  and  it  remained  un- 
touched in  his  pocket. 

aid  joined  him  in  the  street  early  in  the 
eve*  I  accosted  him  graciously. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked. 


122  Driven    from    Home. 

"Nowhere  in  particular.  I  am  out  for  a 
walk." 

"So  am  I.     Shall  we  walk  together?" 

"If  you  like." 

After  talking  on  indifferent  matters,  Leon- 
and  said  suddenly :  "Oh,  by  the  way,  will  you 
do  me  a  favor?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"Lend  me  a  dollar  till  next  week." 

In  former  days  Carl  would  probably  have 
granted  the  favor,  but  he  realized  the  value 
of  money  now  that  he  had  to  earn  it  by  steady 
work. 

"I  am  afraid  it  won't  be  convenient,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"Does  that  mean  that  you  haven't  got  it?" 
asked  Leonard. 

"No,  I  have  it,  but  I  am  expecting  to  use 
it." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  paying  you  interest  for 
it — say  twenty-five  cents,"  continued  Leonard, 
who  had  set  his  heart  on  buying  a  ticket  in  the 
gift  enterprise. 

"I  would  be  ashamed  to  take  such  interest 
as  that." 

"But  I  have  a  chance  of  making  a  good  deal 
more  out  of  it  myself." 

"In  what  way?" 

"That  is  my  secret." 

"Why  don't  you  borrow  it  of  your  uncle?" 


Driven    from    Home.  123 

"He  would  ask  too  many  questions.  How- 
ever, I  see  that  you're  a  miser,  and  I  won't 
trouble  you." 

He  left  Carl  in  a  huff  and  walked  hastily 
away.  He  turned  into  a  lane  little  /traveled, 
and,  after  walking  a  few  rods,  came  suddenly 
upon  the  prostrate  body  of  a  man,  whose  deep 
breathing  showed  that  he  was  stupefied  by 
liquor.  Leonard  was  not  likely  to  feel  any 
special  interest  in  him,  but  one  object  did  at- 
tract his  attention.  It  was  a  wallet  which  Imd 
dropped  out  of  the  man's  pocket  and  was  lying 
on  the  grass  beside  him. 


X24  Driven   from   Home. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Leonard's    temptation, 

Leonard  was  not  a  thief,  but  the  sight  of  the 
wallet  tempted  him,  under  the  circumstances. 
He  had  set  his  heart  on  buying  a  ticket  in  the 
gift  enterprise,  and  knew  of  no  way  of  obtain- 
ing the  requisite  sum — except  this.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  little  shock  to  him  to  think  of  appro- 
priating money  not  his  own;  yet  who  would 
know  it?  The  owner  of  the  wallet  was  drunk, 
and  would  be  quite  unconscious  of  his  loss.  Be- 
sides, if  he  didn't  take  the  wallet,  some  one  else 
probably  would,  and  appropriate  the  entire 
contents.  It  was  an  insidious  suggestion,  and 
Leonard  somehow  persuaded  himself  that  since 
the  money  was  sure  to  be  taken,  he  might  as 
well  have  the  benefit  of  it  as  anyone  else. 

So,  after  turning  over  the  matter  in  his  mind 
rapidly,  he  stooped  down  and  picked  up  the 
wallet. 

The  man  did  not  move. 

Emboldened  by  his  insensibility,  Leonard 
cautiously  opened  the  pocketbook?  and  his  eyes 


Driven   from    Home.  125 

glistened  when  he  saw  tucked  away  in  one 
side,  quite  a  thick  roll  of  bills. 

"He  won't  miss  one  bill,"  thought  Leonard. 
"Anyone  else  might  take  the  whole  wrallet,  but 
I  wouldn't  do  that.  T  wonder  how  much  money 
there  is  in  the  roll." 

He  darted  another  glance  at  the  prostrate 
form,  but  there  seemed  no  danger  of  interrup- 
tion. He  took  the  roll  in  his  hand,  therefore, 
and  a  hasty  scrutiny  showed  him  that  the  bills 
ran  from  ones  to  tens.  There  must  have  been 
nearly  a  hundred  dollars  in  all. 

"Suppose  I  take  a  five,"  thought  Leonard, 
whose  cupidity  increased  with  the  sight  of  the 
money.  "He  won't  miss  it,  and  it  will  be  bet- 
ter in  my  hands  than  if  spent  for  whiskey." 

How  specious  are  the  arguments  of  those 
who  seek  an  excuse  for  a  wrong  act  that  will 
put  money  in  the  purse ! 

"Yes,  I  think  I  may  venture  to  take  a  five, 
and,  as  I  might  not  be  able  to  change  it  right 
away,  I  will  take  a  one  to  send  for  a  ticket. 
Then  I  will  put  the  wallet  back  in  the  man's 
pocket." 

So  far,  all  went  smoothly,  and  Leonard  was 
proceeding  to  carry  out  his  intention  when, 
taking  a  precautionary  look  at  the  man  on  the 
ground,  he  was  dumfounded  by  seeing  his  eyes 
wide  open  and  fixed  upon  him. 

Leonard  flushed  painfully,  like  a  criminal 


126  Driven    from    Home. 

detected  in  a  crime,  and  returned  the  look  of 
inquiry  by  one  of  dismay. 

"What— you — doing?"  inquired  the  victim 
of  inebriety. 

«I_is   this  your  wallet,   sir?"   stammered 

Leonard. 

"Course  it  is.    What  you  got  it  for?" 

"I — I  saw  it  on  the  ground,  and  was  afraid 
some  one  would  find  it,  and  rob  you,"  said 
Leonard,  fluently. 

"Somebody  did  find  it,"  rejoined  the  man, 
whose  senses  seemed  coming  back  to  him.  "How 
much  did  you  take?" 

"I?  You  don't  think  I  would  take  any  of 
your  money?"  said  Leonard,  in  virtuous  sur- 
prise. 

"Looked  like  it !    Can't  tell  who  to  trust," 

"I  assure  you,  I  had  only  just  picked  it  up, 
and  was  going  to  put  it  back  in  your  pocket, 
sir." 

The  man,  drunk  as  he  was,  wmked  know- 
ingly. 

"Smart  boy !"  he  said.    "You  do  it  well,  oV 

fella!" 

"But,  sir,  it  is  quite  true,  I  assure  you.  I 
will  count  over  the  money  before  you.  Do 
you  know  how  much  you  had?" 

"Nev'  mind.     Help  me  up !" 

Leonard  stooped  over  and  helped  the  drunk- 
ard to  a  sitting  position. 


Driven    from    Home.  127 

"Where  am  I?   Where  is  hotel?" 

Leonard  answered  him. 

"Take  me  to  hotel,  and  I'll  give  you  a  dol- 
lar." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  Leonard,  briskly.  He 
was  to  get  his  dollar  after  all,  and  would  not 
have  to  steal  it.  I  am  afraid  he  is  not  to  be 
praised  for  his  honesty,  as  it  seemed  to  be  a 
matter  of  necessity. 

"I  wish  he'd  give  me  five  dollars,"  thought 
Leonard,  but  didn't  see  his  way  clear  to  make 
the  suggestion. 

He  placed  the  man  on  his  feet,  and  guided 
his  steps  to  the  road.  As  he  walked  along,  the 
inebriate,  whose  gait  was  at  first  unsteady,  re- 
covered his  equilibrium  and  required  less  help. 

"How  long  had  you  been  lying  there?"  asked 
Leonard. 

"Don't  know.  I  was  taken  sick,"  and  the 
inebriate  nodded  knowingly  at  Leonard,  who 
felt  at  liberty  to  laugh,  too. 

"Do  you  ever  get  sick?" 

"Not  that  way,"  answered  Leonard. 

"Smart  boy !    Better  off !" 

They  reached  the  hotel,  and  Leonard  engaged 
a  room  for  his  companion. 

"Has  he  got  money?"  asked  the  landlord,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"Yes,"  answered  Leonard,  "he  has  nearly 
a  hundred  dollars.     I  counted  it  myseif  " 


128  Driven    from    Home 

"That's  all  right,  then,"  said  the  landlord. 
"Here,  James,  show  the  gentleman  up  to  No. 
15." 

"Come,  too,"  said  the  stranger  to  Leonard. 

The  latter  followed  the  more  readily  because 
he  had  not  yet  been  paid  his  dollar. 

The  door  of  No.  15  was  opened,  and  the  two 
entered. 

"I  will  stay  with  the  gentleman  a  short 
time,"  said  Leonard  to  the  boy.  "If  we  want 
anything  we  will  ring." 

"All  right,  sir." 

"What's  your  name?"  asked  the  inebriate, 
as  he  sank  into  a  large  armchair  near  the  win- 
dow. 

"Leonard  Craig." 

"Never  heard  the  name  before." 

"What's  your  name,  sir?" 

"What  you  want  to  know  for?"  asked  the 
other,  cunningly. 

"The  landlord  will  want  to  put  it  on  his 
book." 

"My  name?    Phil  Stark." 

"Philip  Stark?" 

"Yes ;  who  told  you?" 

It  will  be  seen  that  Mr.  Stark  was  not  yet 
quite  himself. 

"You  told  me  yourself." 

"So  I  did — 'scuse  me." 

"Certainly,  sir.     By  the  way,  ?f»u  told  me 


Driven    from    Home.  129 

you  would  pay  me  a  dollar  for  bringing  you 
to  the  hotel." 

"So  I  did.  Take  it,"  and  Philip  Stark  passed 
the  wallet  to  Leonard, 

Leonard  felt  tempted  to  take  a  two-dollar 
bill  instead  of  a  one,  as  Mr.  Stark  would  hardly 
notice  the  mistake.  Still,  he  might  ask  to  look 
at  the  bill,  and  that  would  be  awkward.  So 
the  boy  contented  himself  with  the  sum  prom- 
ised. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said,  as  he  slipped  the 
bill  into  his  vest  pocket.  "Do  yon  want  some 
supper?" 

"No,  I  want  to  sleep." 

"Then  you  had  better  lie  down  on  the  bed. 
Will  you  undress?" 

"No ;  too  much  trouble." 

Mr.  Stark  rose  from  the  armchair,  and, 
lurching  round  to  the  bed,  flung  himself  on  it. 

"I  suppose  you  don't  want  me  any  longer," 
said  Leonard. 

"No.     Come  round  to-morrer." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Leonard  opened  the  door  and  left  the  room. 
He  resolved  to  keep  the  appointment,  and  come 
round  the  next  day.  Who  knew  but  some  more, 
of  Mr.  Stark's  money  might  come  into  his 
hands?  Grown  man  as  he  was,  he  seemed  to 
need  a  guardian,  and  Leonard  was  willing  to 
act  as  such — for  a  considerationo 


130  Driven    from    Home. 

"It's  been  a  queer  adventure !"  thought  Leon- 
ard, as  he  slowly  bent  his  steps  towards  his  un- 
cle's house.  "I've  made  a  dollar  out  of  it,  any- 
way, and  if  he  hadn't  happened  to  wake  up 
just  as  he  did  I  might  have  done  better.  How- 
ever, it  may  turn  out  as  well  in  the  end." 

"You  are  rather  late,  Leonard,"  said  his  un- 
cle, in  a  tone  that  betrayed  some  irritation. 
"I  wanted  to  send  you  on  an  errand,  and  you 
are  always  out  of  the  way  at  such  a  time." 

"I'll  go  now,"  said  Leonard,  with  unusual 
amiability.     "I've  had  a  little  adventure." 

"An  adventure!  What  is  it?"  Mr.  Gibbon 
asked,  with  curiosity. 

Leonard  proceeded  to  give  an  account  of  his 
finding  the  inebriate  in  the  meadow,  and  his 
guiding  him  to  the  hotel.  It  may  readily  be 
supposed  that  he  said  nothing  of  his  attempt 
to  appropriate  a  part  of  the  contents  of  the 
wallet. 

"What  was  his  name?"  asked  Gibbon,  with 
languid  curiosity. 

"Phil  Stark,  he  calls  himself." 

A  strange  change  came  over  the  face  of  the 
bookkeeper.  There  was  a  frightened  look  in 
his  eyes,  and  his  color  faded. 

"Phil  Stark !"  he  repeated,  in  a  startled  tone. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  brings  him  here?"  Gibbon  asked  him- 
self nervously,  but  no  words  passed  his  lips. 


Driven    from    Home.  13Y 

"Do  you  know  the  name?"  asked  Leonard, 
wonderingly. 

"I — have  heard  it  before,  but — no,  I  don't 
think  it  is  the  same  man." 


132  Driven   from   Home. 


OHAPTER  XIX. 

AN     ARTFUL     SCHEME. 

"Does  this  Mr.  Stark  intend  to  remain  long 
in  the  village?"  inquired  the  bookkeeper,  in 
a  tone  of  assumed  indifference. 

"He  didn't  say  anything  on  that  point,"  an- 
swered Leonard. 

"He  did  not  say  what  business  brought  him 
here,  I  presume?" 

"No,  he  was  hardly  in  condition  to  say 
much ;  he  was  pretty  full,"  said  Leonard,  with 
a  laugh.  "However,  he  wants  me  to  call  upon 
him  to-morrow,  and  may  tell  me  then." 

"He  wants  you  to  call  upon  him?" 

"Yes,  uncle." 

"Are  you  going?" 

"Yes;  why  shouldn't  I?" 

"I  see  no  reason,"  said  Gibbon,  hesitating. 
Then,  after  a  pause  he  added:  "If  you  see 
the  way  clear,  find  out  what  brings  him  to 
Milford." 

"Yes,  uncle,  I  will." 

"Uncle  Julius  seems  a  good  deal  interested 


Driven   from    Home.  133 

in  tin's  man,  considering  that  he  is  a  stranger," 
thought  the  boy. 

The  bookkeeper  was  biting  his  nails,  a  habit 
he  had  when  he  was  annoyed.  "And,  Leon- 
ard," he  added  slowly,  "don't  mention  my 
name  while  you  are  speaking  to  Stark." 

"No,  sir,  I  won't,  if  you  don't  want  me  to," 
answered  Leonard,  his  face  betraying  unmis- 
takable curiosity.  His  uncle  noted  this,  and 
explained  hurriedly:  "It  is  possible  that  he 
may  be  a  man  whom  I  once  met  under  disa- 
greeable circumstances,  and  I  would  prefer 
not  to  meet  him  again.  Should  he  learn  that 
I  was  living  here,  he  would  be  sure  to  want 
to  renew  th'   acquaintance." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  see.  I  don't  think  he  would 
want  to  borrow  money,  for  he  seems  to  be 
pretty  well  provided.  I  made  a  dollar  out  of 
him  to-day,  and  that  is  one  reason  why  I  am 
willing  to  call  on  him  again.  1  may  strike 
him  for  another  bill." 

"There  is  no  objection  to  that,  provided  you 
don't  talk  to  him  too  freely.  I  don't  think 
he  will  want  to  stay  long  in  Milford." 

"I  wouldn't  if  I  had  as  much  money  as  he 
probably  has." 

"Do  you  often  meet  the  new  boy?" 

"Carl  Crawford?" 

"Yes;  I  see  him  on  the  street  quite  often." 

"He  lives  with  Mr.  Jennings,  I  hear-," 


134  Driven    from    Home. 

"So  be  tells  me." 

"It  is  rather  strange.  I  didn't  suppose  that 
Jennings  would  care  to  receive  a  boy  in  his 
bouse,  or  that  tall  grenadier  of  a  housekeeper, 
either.     I  expect  she  rules  the  household." 

"She  could  tuck  him  under  her  arm  and 
walk  off  with  him,"  said  Leonard,  laughing. 

"The  boy  must  be  artful  to  have  wormed 
his  way  into  the  favor  of  the  strange  pair.  He 
seems  to  be  a  favorite." 

"Yes,  uncle,  I  think  he  is.  However,  I  like 
my  position  better  than  his." 

"He  will  learn  his  business  from  the  begin- 
ning. I  don't  know  but  it  was  a  mistake  for 
you  to  leave  the  factory." 

"I  am  not  at  all  sorry  for  it,  uncle." 
"Your  position  doesn't  amount  to  much." 
"I  am  paid  just  as  well  as  I  was  when  I  was 
in  the  factory." 

"But  you  are  learning  nothing." 
"You  are  going  to  teach  me  bookkeeping." 
"Even  that  is  not  altogether  a  desirable  busi- 
ness.    A  good  bookkeeper  can  never  expect  to 
be  in  business  for  himself.     He  must  be  con- 
tent with  a  salary  all  his  life." 

"You  have  done  pretty  well,  uncle." 

"But  there  is  no  chance  of  my  becoming 

a    rich    man.      I  have  to  work  hard  for  my 

money.     And  I   haven't  been  able  to  lay  up 

much  money  yet.     That  reminds  me,  Leonard, 


Driven    from    Home.  135 

I  must  impress  upon  you  the  fact  that  you 
have  your  own  way  to  make.  I  have  procured 
you  a  place,  and  I  provide  you  a  home " 

"You  take  my  wages/'  said  Leonard,  bluntly. 

"A  part  of  them,  but  on  the  whole,  you  are 
not  self-supporting.  You  must  look  ahead, 
Leonard,  and  consider  the  future.  When  you 
are  a  young  man  you  will  want  to  earn  an  ade- 
quate income." 

"Of  course,  I  shall,  uncle,  but  there  is  one 
other  course." 

"What  is  that?" 

"I  may  marry  an  heiress/'  suggested  Leon- 
ard, smiling. 

The  bookkeeper  winced. 

"I  thought  I  was  marrying  an  heiress  when 
I  married  your  aunt,"  he  said,  "but  within 
six  months  of  our  wedding  day,  her  father 
made  a  bad  failure,  and  actually  had  the  as- 
surance to  ask  me  to  give  him  a  home  under 
my  roof." 

'"Did  you  do  it?" 

"No;  I  told  him  it  would  not  be  convenient." 

"What  became  of  him?" 

"He  got  a  small  clerkship  at  ten  dollars  a 
week  in  the  counting  room  of  a  mercantile 
friend,  and  filled  it  till  one  day  last  October, 
when  he  dropped  dead  of  apoplexy.  I  made 
a  great  mistake  when  I  married  in  not  asking 
him  to  settle  a  definite  sum  on  bis  daughter. 


136  Driven   from"  Home. 

It  would  have  been  so  much  saved  from  the 
wreck." 

"Did  aunt  want  him  to  come  and  live  here?" 

"Yes,  women  are  always  unreasonable.  She 
would  have  had  me  support  the  old  man  in 
idleness,  but  I  am  not  one  of  that  kind.  Every 
tub  should  stand  on  its  own  bottom.'' 

"I  say  so,  too,  uncle.  Do  you  know  whether 
this  boy,  Carl  Crawford,  has  any  father  or 
mother?" 

"From  a  word  Mr.  Jennings  let  fall  I  infer 
that  he  has  relatives,  but  is  not  on  good  terms 
with  them.  I  have  been  a  little  afraid  he 
might  stand  in  your  light." 

"How  so,  uncle?" 

"Should  there  be  any  good  opening  for  one 
of  your  age,  I  am  afraid  he  would  get  it  rather 
than  you." 

"I  didn't  think  of  that,"  said  Leonard,  jeal- 
ously. 

"Living  as  he  does  with  Mr.  Jennings,  he 
will  naturally  try  to  ingratiate  himself  with 
him,  and  stand  first  in  his  esteem." 

"That  is  true.  Is  Mr.  Jennings  a  rich  man, 
do  you  think?" 

"Yes,  I  think  he  is.  The  factory  and  stock 
are  worth  considerable  money,  but  T  know  he 
has  other  investments  also.  As  one  item  he 
has  over  a  thousand  dollars  in  the  Carter- 
ville  Savings  Bank.    He  has  been  very  pru- 


Driven   from   Home.  137 

dent,  has  met  with  do  losses,  and  has  put  aside 
a  great  share  of  his  profits  every  year." 

"I  wonder  he  don't  marry." 

"Marriage  doesn't  seem  to  be  in  his 
thoughts.  Hannah  makes  him  so  comfortable 
that  he  will  probably  remain  a  bachelor  to 
the  end  of  his  days." 

"Perhaps  he  will  leave  his  money  to  her." 

"He  is  likely  to  live  as  long  as  she." 

"She  is  a  good  deal  longer  than  he,"  said 
Leonard,  with  a  laugh. 

The  bookkeeper  condescended  to  smile  at 
this  joke,  though  it  was  not  very  brilliant. 

"Before  this  boy  Carl  came,"  he  resumed 
thoughtfully,  "I  hoped  he  might  take  a  fancy 
to  you.  He  must  die  some  time,  and,  having 
no  near  blood  relative,  I  thought  he  might  se- 
lect as  heir  some  boy  like  yourself,  who  might 
grow  into  his  favor  and  get  on  his  blind  side." 

"Is  it  too  late  now?"  asked  Leonard,  eagerly. 

"Perhaps  not,  but  the  appearance  of  this 
new  boy  on  the  scene  makes  your  chance  a  good 
deal  smaller." 

"I  wish  we  could  get  rid  of  him,"  said  Leon- 
ard, frowning. 

"The  only  way  is  to  injure  him  in  the  es 
timation  of  Mr.  Jennings." 

"I  think  I  know  of  a  way." 

"Mention  it." 

"Here  is  an  advertisement  of  a  Tottery,"  said 


138  Driven    from    Home. 

^Leonard,  whose  plans,  in  view  of  what  his  un- 
cle had  said,  had  experienced  a  change. 

"Well?" 

"I  will  write  to  the  manager  in  Carl's  name, 
inquiring  about  tickets,  and,  of  course,  he  will 
answer  to  him,  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Jennings. 
This  will  lead  to  the  suspicion  that  Carl  is 
interested  in  such  matters." 

"It  is  a  good  idea.  It  will  open  the  way 
to  a  loss  of  confidence  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Jen- 
nings." 

"I  will  sit  down  at  your  desk  and  write 
at  once." 

Three  days  later  Mr.  Jennings  handed  a 
letter  to  Carl  after  they  reached  home  in  the 
evening. 

"A  letter  for  you  to  my  care,"  lie  explained. 

Carl  opened  it  in  surprise,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : 

"Office  of  Gift  Enterprise. 

"Mr.  Carl  Crawford: — Your  letter  of  in- 
quiry is  received.  In  reply  we  would  say  that, 
we  will  send  you  six  tickets  for  five  dollars. 
By  disposing  of  them  among  your  friends  at 
one  dollar  each,  you  will  save  the  cost  of  your 
own.    You  had  better  remit  at  once. 

"Yours  respectfully,     Pitkins  &  Gamp, 

"Agents." 

Carl  looked  the  picture  of  astonishment 
when  he  read  this  letter. 


Driven   from   Home.  139 


CHAPTER  XX. 

REVEALS      A      MYSTERY. 

"Please  read  this  letter,  Mr.  Jennings,"  said 
Carl. 

His  employer  took  the  letter  from  his  hand, 
and  ran  his  eye  over  it. 

"Do  you  wish  to  ask  my  advice  about  the 
investment?"  he  said,  quietly. 

"No,  sir.  I  wanted  to  know  how  such  a 
letter  came  to  be  written  to  me." 

"Didn't  you  send  a  letter  of  inquiry  there?" 

"No,  sir,  and  I  can't  understand  how  these 
men  could  have  got  hold  of  my  name." 

Mr.  Jennings  looked  thoughtful. 

"Some  one  has  probably  written  in  your 
name,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

"But  who  could  have  done  so?" 

"If  you  will  leave  the  letter  in  my  hands, 
I  may  be  able  to  obtain  some  information  on 
that  point." 

"I  shall  be  glad  if  you  can,  Mr.  Jennings." 

"Don't  mention  to  anyone  having  received 
such  a  letter,  and  if  anyone  broaches  the  sub- 
ject, let  me  know  who  it  is." 


140  Driven   from    Home. 

■    "Yes,  sir,  I  will." 

Mr.  Jennings  quietly  put  on  bis  hat,  and 
walked  over  to  the  post  office.  The  postmas- 
ter, who  also  kept  a  general  variety  store, 
chanced  to  be  alone. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Jennings."  he  said, 
pleasantly.     "What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I  want  a  little  information,  Mr.  Sweet- 
land,  though  it  is  doubtful  if  you  can  give  it." 

Mr.  Sweetland  assumed  the  attitude  of  at- 
tention. 

"Do  you  know  if  any  letter  has  been  posted 
from  this  office  within  a  few  days,  addressed 
to  Pitkins  &  Gamp,  Syracuse,  New  York?" 

"Yes;  two  letters  have  been  handed  in  bear- 
ing this  address." 

Mr.  Jennings  was  surprised,  for  he  had  never 
thought  of  two  letters. 

"Can  you  tell  me  who  handed  them  in?" 
he  asked. 

"Both  were  handed  in  by  the  same  party." 

"And  that  was " 

"A  boy  in  your  employ." 

Mr.  Jennings  looked  grave.  Was  it  possi- 
ble that  Carl  was  deceiving  him? 

"The  boy  who  lives  at  my  house?"  he  asked, 
anxiously. 

"No ;  the  boy  who  usually  calls  for  the  fac- 
tory mail.  The  nephew  of  your  bookkeeper. 
I  think  his  name  is  Leonard  Craig." 


Driven    from    Home.  141 

"Ah,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Jennings,  looking  very 
much  relieved.  "And  you  say  he  deposited 
both  letters?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Do  you  happen  to  remember  if  any  other 
letter  like  this  was  received  at  the  office?" 

Here  he  displayed  the  envelope  of  Carl's  let- 
ter. 

"Yes;  one  was  received,  addressed  to  the 
name  of  the  one  who  deposited  the  first  let- 
ters— Leonard  Craig." 

*  Thank  you,  Mr.  Sweetland.  Your  informa- 
tion has  cleared  up  a  mystery.  Be  kind 
enough  not  to  mention  the  matter." 

"I  will  bear  your  request  in  mind." 

Mr.  Jennings  bought  a  supply  of  stamps, 
and  then  left  the  office. 

"Well,  Carl,"  he  said,  when  he  re-entered  the 
house,  "I  have  discovered  who  wrote  in  your 
name  to  Pitkins  &  Gamp." 

"Who,  sir?"  asked  Carl,  with  curiosity. 

"Leonard  Craig." 

"But  what  could  induce  him  to  do  it  ?"  said 
Carl,  perplexed. 

"He  thought  that  I  would  see  the  letter,  and 
would  be  prejudiced  against  you  if  I  discov- 
ered that  you  were  investing  in  what  is  a  spe- 
cies of  lottery." 

"Would  you,  sir?" 

"I  should  have  thought  you  unwise,  and  I 


142  Driven    from    Home. 

should  have  been  reminded  of  a  fellow  work- 
man who  became  so  infatuated  with  lotteries 
that  he  stole  money  from  his  employer  to  en- 
able him  to  continue  his  purchases  of  tickets. 
But  for  this  unhappy  passion  he  would  have 
remained  honest." 

"Leonard  must  dislike  me,"  said  Carl, 
thoughtfully. 

"He  is  jealous  of  you;  I  warned  you  he  or 
some  one  else  might  become  so.  But  the  most 
curious  circumstance  is,  he  wrote  a  second  let- 
ter in  his  own  name.  I  suspect  he  has  bought 
a  ticket.  I  advise  you  to  say  nothing  about 
tLe  matter  unless  questioned." 

"I  won't,  sir." 

The  next  day  Carl  met  Leonard  in  the  street. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Leonard,  "you  got  a  let- 
ter yesterday?" 

"Yes." 

"I  brought  it  to  the  factory  with  the  rest 
of  the  mail." 

"Thank  you." 

Leonard  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"He  seems  to  be  close-mouthed,"  Leonard 
said  to  himself.  "He  has  sent  for  a  ticket,  I'll 
bet  a  hat,  and  don't  want  me  to  find  out.  I 
wish  I  could  draw  the  capital  prize — I  would 
not  mind  old  Jennings  finding  out  then." 

"Do  you  ever  hear  from  your — friends?"  he 
asked  a  minute  later. 


Driven    from    Home.  143 

"Not  often." 

"I  thought  that  letter  might  be  from  your 
home." 

"No ;  it  was  a  letter  from  Syracuse." 

"I  remember  now,  it  was  postmarked  Syra- 
cuse.    Have  you  friends  there?" 

"None  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"Yet  you  receive  letters  from  there?" 

"That  was  a  business  letter." 

Carl  was  quietly  amused  at  Leonard's  skill- 
ful questions,  but  was  determined  not  to  give 
him  any  light  on  the  subject. 

Leonard  tried  another  avenue  of  attack. 

"Oh,  dear!"  he  sighed,  "I  wish  I  was  rich." 

"I  shouldn't  mind  being  rich  myself,"  said 
Carl,  with  a  smile. 

"I  suppose  old  Jennings  must  have  a  lot  of 
money." 

"Mr.  Jennings,  I  presume,  is  very  well  off," 
responded  Carl,  emphasizing  the  title  "Mr." 

"If  I  had  his  money  I  wouldn't  live  in  such 
Quaker  style." 

"Would  you  have  him  give  fashionable  par- 
ties?" asked  Carl,  smiling. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  he  would  enjoy 
that ;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  I  would  do.  I 
would  buy  a  fast  horse — a  two-forty  mare — 
and  a  hangup  buggy,  and  I'd  show  the  old 
farmers  round  here  what  fast  driving  is.  Then 
I'd  have  a  stylish  house,  and -" 


144  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  don't  believe  you'd  be  content  to  live  in 
Mil  ford,  Leonard." 

"I  don't  think  I  would,  either,  unless  my 
business  were  here.  I'd  go  to  New  York  every 
few  weeks  and  see  life." 

"You  may  be  rich  some  time,  so  that  you 
can  carry  out  your  wishes." 

"Do  you  know  any  easy  way  of  getting 
money?"  asked  Leonard,  pointedly. 

"The  easy  ways  are  not  generally  the  true 
ways.  A  man  sometimes  makes  money  by 
speculation,  but  he  has  to  have  some  to  be- 
gin  with." 

"I  can't  get  anything  out  of  him,"  thought 
Leonard.     "Well,  good-evening." 

He  crossed  the  street,  and  joined  the  man 
who  has  already  been  referred  to  as  boarding 
at  the  hotel. 

Mr.  Stark  had  now  been  several  days  in  Mil- 
ford.  What  brought  him  there,  or  what  ob- 
ject he  had  in  staying,  Leonard  had  not  yet 
ascertained.  He  generally  spent  part  of  his 
evenings  with  the  stranger,  and  had  once  or 
twice  received  from  him  a  small  sum  of  money. 
Usually,  however,  he  had  met  Mr.  Stark  in 
the  billiard  room,  and  played  a  game  or  two 
of  billiards  with  him.  Mr.  Stark  always  paid 
for  the  use  of  the  table,  and  that  was  naturally 
satisfactory  to  Leonard,  who  enjoyed  amuse- 
ment at  the  expense  of  others. 


Driven   from    Home.  145 

Leonard,  bearing  in  mind  his  uncle's  request, 
had  not  mentioned  his  name  to  Mr.  Stark,  and 
Stark,  though  he  had  walked  about  the  village 
more  or  less,  had  not  chanced  to  meet  Mr.  Gib- 
bon. 

He  had  questioned  Leonard,  however,  about 
Mr.  Jennings,  and  whether  he  was  supposed  to 
be  rich. 

Leonard  had  answered  freely  that  everyone 
considered  him  so. 

"But  he  doesn't  know  how  to  enjoy  his 
money,"  he  added. 

"We  should,"  said  Stark,  jocularly. 

"You  bet  we  would,"  returned  Leonard;  and 
he  was  quite  sincere  in  his  boast,  as  we  know 
from  his  conversation  with  Carl. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Stark,  on  this  particular 
evening,  "I  never  asked  you  about  your  fam- 
ily, Leonard.  I  suppose  you  live  with  your 
parents." 

"No,  sir.     They  are  dead." 

"Then  whom  do  you  live  with?" 

"With  my  uncle,"  answered  Leonard,  guard- 
edly. 

"Is  his  name  Craig?" 

"No." 

"What  then?" 

"I've  got  to  tell  him,"  thought  Leonard. 
"Well,  I  don't  suppose  there  will  be  much 
harm  in  it     My  uncle  is  bookkeeper  for  Mr. 


146  Driven    from    Home. 

Jennings,"  he  said,  "and  his  name  is  Julius 
Gibbon." 

Philip  Stark  wheeled  round,  and  eyed  Leon- 
ard in  blank  astonishment. 

"Your  uncle  is  Julius  Gibbon!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I'll  be— Mowed." 

"Do  you — know  my  uncle?"  asked  Leonard, 
hesitating. 

"I  rather  think  I  do.  Take  me  round  to  the 
house.     I  want  to  see  him." 


Driven   from   Home.  147 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

AN     UNWELCOME     GUEST. 

When  Julius  Gibbon  saw  the  door  open  and 
Philip  Stark  enter  the  room  where  he  was 
smoking  his  noon  cigar,  his  heart  quickened 
its  pulsations  and  he  turned  pale. 

"How  are  you,  old  friend?"  said  Stark,  bois- 
terously. "Funny,  isn't  it,  that  I  should  run 
across  your  nephew?" 

"Very  strange!"  ejaculated  Gibbon,  looking 
the  reverse  of  joyous. 

"It's  a  happy  meeting,  isn't  it?  We  used  to 
see  a  good  deal  of  each  other,"  and  he  laughed 
in  a  way  that  Gibbon  was  far  from  enjoying. 
"Now,  I've  come  over  to  have  a  good,  long  chat 
with  you.  Leonard,  I  think  we  won't  keep 
you,  as  you  wouldn't  be  interested  in  our  talk 
about  old  times." 

"Yes,  Leonard,  you  may  leave  us,"  added 
his  uncle. 

Leonard's  curiosity  was  excited,  and  he 
would  have  been  glad  to  remain,  but  as  there 
was  no  help  for  it,  he  went  out. 

WThen  they  were  alone,  Stark  drew  up  his 


148  Driven    from    Home. 

chair  close,  and  laid  his  hand  familiarly 
the  bookkeeper's  knee. 

"I  say,  Gibbon,  do  you  remember  where  we 
last  met?" 

Gibbon  shuddered  slightly. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  feebly. 

"It  was  at  Joliet — Joliet  Penitentiary.  Your 
time  expired  before  mine.  I  envied  you  the 
six  months'  advantage  you  had  of  me  When 
I  came  out  I  searched  for  you  everywhere,  but 
heard  nothing." 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  here?"  asked  the 
bookkeeper. 

"I  didn't  know.  I  had  no  suspicion  of  it. 
Nor  did  I  dream  that  Leonard,  who  was  able 
to  do  me  a  little  service,  was  your  nephew.  I 
say,  he's  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  Gibbon,"  and 
Stark  laughed  as  if  he  enjoyed  it. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"I  was  lying  in  a  field,  overcome  by  liquor, 
an  old  weakness  of  mine,  you  know,  and  my 
wallet  had  slipped  out  of  my  pocket.  I 
chanced  to  open  my  eyes,  when  I  .saw  it  in  the 
hands  of  your  promising  nephew,  ha!  ha!" 

"He  told  me  that." 

"But  he  didn't  tell  you  that  he  was  on  the 
point  of  appropriating  a  part  of  the  contents? 
I  warrant  you  he  didn't  tell  you  that." 

"Did  he  acknowledge  it?  Perhaps  you  mis- 
judged him." 


Driven   from    Home.  149 

"He  didn't  acknowledge  it  in  so  many  words, 
but  I  knew  it  by  his  change  of  color  and  con- 
fusion. Oh,  I  didn't  lay  it  up  against  him. 
We  are  very  good  friends.  He  comes  honestly 
by  it." 

Gibbon  looked  very  much  annoyed,  but  there 
were  reasons  why  he  did  not  care  to  express 
his  chagrin. 

"On  my  honor,  it  was  an  immense  surprise 
to  me,"  proceeded  Stark,  "when  I  learned  that 
my  old  friend  Gibbon  was  a  resident  of  Mil- 
ford." 

"I  wish  you  had  never  found  it  out,"  thought 
Gibbon,  biting  his  lip, 

"No  sooner  did  I  hear  it  than  I  posted  off 
at  once  to  call  on  you." 

"So  I  see." 

Stark  elevated  his  eyebrows,  and  looked 
amused.  He  saw  that  he  was  not  a  welcome 
visitor,  but  for  that  he  cared  little. 

"Haven't  you  got  on,  though?  Here  I  find 
you  the  trusted  bookkeeper  of  an  important 
business  firm.  Did  you  bring  recommenda- 
tions from  your  last  place?"  and  he  burst  into 
a  loud  guffaw. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  make  such  refer- 
ences," snapped  Gibbon.  "They  can  do  no 
good,  and  might  do  harm." 

"Don't  be  angry,  my  dear  boy.  I  rejoice 
at  your  good  fortune.     Wish  I  was  equally 


150  Driven    from    Home. 

will  fixed.  You  don't  ask  how  T  am  getting 
on." 

"I  hope  you  are  prosperous,"'  said  Gibbon, 
coldly. 

"I  might  be  more  so.  Is  there  a  place  vacant 
in  your  office?" 

"No." 

"And  if  there  were,  you  might  not  recom- 
mend me,  eh?" 

"There  is  no  need  to  speak  of  that.  There 
is  no  vacancy." 

"Upon  my  word,  I  wish  there  were,  as  I  am 
getting  to  the  end  of  my  tether.  I  may  have 
money  enough  to  last  me  four  weeks  longer, 
but  no  more." 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  you,"  said  Gib- 
bon. 

"How  much  salary  does  Mr.  Jennings  pay 
you?" 

"A  hundred  dollars  a  month,"  answered  the 
bookkeeper,  reluctantly. 

"Not  bad,  in  a  cheap  place  like  this." 

"It  takes  all  I  make  to  pay  expenses." 

"I  remember — you  have  a  wife.  I  have  no 
such  incumbrance." 

"There  is  one  question  I  would  like  to  ask 
you,"  said  the  bookkeeper. 

"Fire  away,  dear  boy.  Have  you  an  extra 
cigar?" 

"nere  is  one." 


Driven    from    Home.  151 

"Thanks.  Now  I  shall  be  comfortable.  Go 
ahead  with  your  question." 

"What  brought  you  to  Milford?  You  didn't 
know  of  my  being  here,  you  say." 

"Neither  did  I.    I  came  on  my  old  business." 

"What?" 

"I  heard  there  was  a  rich  manufacturer  here 
— I  allude  to  your  respected  employer.  I 
thought  I  might  manage  to  open  his  safe  some 
dark  night." 

"No,  no,"  protested  Gibbon  in  alarm.  "Don't 
think  of  it." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Stark,  coolly. 

"Because,"  answered  Gibbon,  in  some  agita- 
tion, "I  might  be  suspected." 

"Well,  perhaps  you  might;  but  I  have  got 
to  look  out  for  number  one.  How  do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  live?" 

"Go  somewhere  else.  There  are  plenty  of 
other  men  as  rich,  and  richer,  where  you  would 
not  be  compromising  an  old  friend." 

"It's  because  I  have  an  old  friend  in  the 
office  that  I  have  thought  this  would  be  my 
best  opening." 

"Surely,  man,  you  don't  expect  me  to  betray 
my  employer,  and  join  with  you  in  robbing 
him?" 

"That's  just  what  I  do  expect.  Don't  tell 
me  you  have  grown  virtuous,  Gibbon.  The 
tiger  doesn't  lose  his  spots  or  the  leopard  his 


152  Driven   from   Home. 

stripes.  I  tell  you  there's  a  fine  chance  for  us 
both.     I'll  divide  with  you,  if  you'll  help  me." 

"But  I've  gone  out  of  the  business,"  pro- 
tested Gibbon. 

"I  haven't.  Come,  old  boy,  I  can't  let  any 
sentimental  scruples  interfere  with  so  good  a 
stroke  of  business." 

"I  won't  help  you!"  said  Gibbon,  angrily. 
"You  only  want  to  get  me  into  trouble." 

"You  won't  help  me?"  said  Stark,  with  slow 
deliberation. 

"No,  I  can't  honorably.  Can't  you  let  me 
alone?" 

"Sorry  to  say,  I  can't.  If  I  was  rich,  I 
might ;  but  as  it  is,  it  is  quite  necessary  for  me 
to  raise  some  money  somewhere.  Bj  all  ac- 
counts, Jennings  is  rich,  and  can  spare  a  small 
part  of  his  accumulations  for  a  good  fellow 
that's  out  of  luck." 

"You'd  better  give  up  the  idea.  It's  quite 
impossible." 

"Is  it?"  asked  Stark,  with  a  wicked  look. 
"Then  do  you  know  what  I  will  do?" 

"What  will  you  do?"  asked  Gibbon,  nerv- 
ously. 

"I  will  call  on  your  employer,  and  tell  him 
what  I  know  of  you." 

"You  wouldn't  do  that?"  said  the  book- 
keeper, much  agitated. 

"Why  not?    You  turn  your  back  upon  an 


Driven   from    Home.  153 

old  friend.  You  bask  in  prosperity,  and  turn 
from  him  in  his  poverty.  It's  the  way  of  the 
world,  no  doubt;  but  Phil  Stark  generally  gets 
even  with  those  who  don't  treat  him  well." 

"Tell  me  what  you  want  me  to  do,"  said  Gib- 
bon, desperately. 

"Tell  me  first  whether  your  safe  contains 
much  of  value." 

"We  keep  a  line  of  deposit  with  the  Milford 
Bank." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  nothing  of  value 
is  left  in  the  safe  overnight?"  asked  Stark, 
disappointed. 

"There  is  a  box  of  government  bonds  usually 
kept  there,"  the  bookkeeper  admitted,  reluc- 
tantly. 

"Ah,  that's  good!"  returned  Stark,  rubbing 
his  hands.  "Do  you  know  how  much  they 
amount  to?" 

"I  think  there  are  about  four  thousand  dol- 
lars." 

"Good!  We  must  have  those  bonds,  Gib- 
bon." 


j 54  Driven   from    Home. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MR.  STARK  IS  RECOGNIZED. 

Phil  Stark  was  resolved  not  to  release  his 
hold  upon  his  old  acquaintance.  During  the 
day  he  spent  his  time  in  lounging  about  the 
town,  but  in  the  evening  he  invariably  fetched 
up  at  the  bookkeeper's  modest  home.  His  at- 
tentions were  evidently  not  welcome  to  Mr. 
Gibbon,  who  daily  grew  more  and  more  nerv- 
ous and  irritable,  and  had  the  appearance  of 
a  man  whom  something  disquieted. 

Leonard  watched  the  growing  intimacy  with 
curiosity.  ITe  was  a  sharp  boy,  and  he  felt 
convinced  that  there  was  something  between 
his  uncle  and  the  stranger.  There  was  no 
chance  for  him  to  overhear  any  conversation, 
for  he  was  always  sent  out  of  the  way  when 
the  two  were  closeted  together,  lie  still  met 
Mr.  Stark  outside,  and  played  billiards  with 
him  frequently.  Once  he  tried  to  extract 
some  information  from  Stark. 

"You've  known  my  uncle  a  good  while,"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  of  assumed  indifference. 


Driven    from    Home.  155 

"Yes,  a  good  many  years,"  answered  Stark, 
as  he  made  a  carom. 

"Were  you  in  business  together?" 

"Not  exactly,  but  we  may  be  some  time," 
returned  Stark,  with  a  significant  smile. 

"Here?" 

"Well,  that  isn't  decided." 

"Where  did  you  first  meet  Uncle  Julius?" 

"The  kid's  growing  curious,"  said  Stark  to 
himself.  "Does  he  think  he  can  pull  wool 
over  the  eyes  of  Phil  Stark?  If  he  does,  he 
thinks  a  good  deal  too  highly  of  himself.  I 
will  answer  his  questions  to  suit  myself." 

"Why  don't  you  ask  your  uncle  that?" 

"I  did,"  said  Leonard,  "but  he  snapped  me 
up,  and  told  me  to  mind  my  own  business.  He 
is  getting  terribly  cross  lately." 

"It's  his  stomach,  I  presume,"  said  Stark, 
urbanely.  "He  is  a  confirmed  dyspeptic — 
that's  what's  the  matter  with  him.  Now,  I've 
got  the  digestion  of  an  ox.  Nothing  ever  trou- 
bles me,  and  the  result  is  that  I  am  as  calm 
and  good-natured  as  a  May  morning." 

"Don't  you  ever  get  riled,  Mr.  Stark?"  asked 
Leonard,  laughing. 

"Well,  hardly  ever.  Sometimes  when  I  am 
asked  fool  questions  by  one  who  seems  to  be 
prying  into  what  is  none  of  his  business,  I 
get  wrathy,  and  when  I'm  roused,,  look  out!" 

He  glanced  meaningly  at  Leonard,  and  the 


156  Driven    from    Home. 

boy  understood  that  the  words    conveyed    a 
warning  and  a  menace. 

"Is  anything  the  matter  with  you,  Mr.  Gib- 
bon? Are  you  as  well  as  usual?"  asked  Mr. 
Jennings  one  morning.  The  little  man  was 
always  considerate,  and  he  had  noticed  the 
flurried  and  nervous  manner  of  his  bookkeeper. 

"No,  sir;  what  makes  you  ask?"  said  Gib- 
bon, apologetically. 

"Perhaps  you  need  a  vacation,"  suggested 
Mr.  Jennings. 

"Oh,  no,  I  think  not.  Besides,  I  couldn't  be 
spared." 

"I  would  keep  the  books  myself  for  a  week 
to  favor  you." 

"You  are  very  kind,  but  I  won't  trouble  you 
just  yet.  A  little  later  on,  if  I  feel  more  un- 
comfortable, I  will  avail  myself  of  your  kind- 
ness." 

"Do  so.  I  know  that  bookkeeping  is  a 
strain  upon  the  mind,  more  so  than  physical 
labor." 

There  were  special  reasons  why  Mr.  Gib- 
bon did  not  dare  to  accept  the  vacation  ten- 
dered him  by  his  employer.  He  knew  that 
Phil  Stark  would  be  furious,  for  it  would  in- 
terfere with  his  designs.  He  could  not  afford 
to  offend  this  man,  who  held  in  his  possession 
a  secret  affecting  his  reputation  and  good 
name. 


Driven    from   Home.  157 

The  presence  of  a  stranger  in  a  small  town 
always  attracts  public  attention,  and  many 
were  curious  about  the  rakish-looking  man 
who  had  now  for  some  time  occupied  a  room 
at  the  hotel. 

Among  others,  Carl  had  several  times  seen 
him  walking  with  Leonard  Craig 

"Leonard,"  he  asked  one  day,  "who  is  the 
gentleman  I  see  you  so  often  walking  with?" 

"It's  a  man  that's  boarding  at  the  hotel.  I 
play  billiards  with  him  sometimes  " 

"He  seems  to  like  Milford." 

"I  don't  know.  He's  over  at  our  house  every 
evening." 

"Is  he?"  asked  Carl,  surprised. 

"Yes ;  he's  an  old  acquaintance  of  Uncle  Ju- 
lius. I  don't  know  where  they  met  each  other, 
for  he  won't  tell.  He  said  he  and  uncle  might 
go  into  business  together  some  time.  Between 
you  and  me,  I  think  uncle  would  like  to  get 
rid  of  him.     I  know  he  doesn't  like  him." 

This  set  Carl  to  thinking,  but  something  oc- 
curred soon  afterwards  that  impressed  him 
still  more. 

Occasionally  a  customer  of  the  house  visited 
Milford,  wishing  to  give  a  special  order  for 
some  particular  line  of  goods.  About  this 
time  a  Mr.  Thorndike,  from  Chicago,  came  to 
Milford  on  this  errand,  and  put  up  at  the  ho- 
tel.    He  had  called  at  the  factory  during  the 


II  «$  Driven    from    Home. 

day,  and  bad  some  conversation  with  Mr.  Jen- 
nings. After  supper  a  doubt  entered  tbe  mind 
of  tbe  manufacturer  in  regard  to  one  point, 
and  be  said  to  Carl :  "Carl,  are  you  engaged 
this  evening?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Will  you  carry  a  note  for  me  to  tbe 
hotel?" 

"Certainly,  sir;  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so." 

"Mr.  Thorndike  leaves  in  tbe  morning,  and 
I  am  not  quite  clear  as  to  one  of  the  specifica- 
tions he  gave  me  with  his  order.  You  noticed 
the  gentleman  who  went  through  the  factory 
with  me?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"He  is  Mr.  Thorndike.  Please  hand  him  this 
note,  and  if  he  wishes  you  to  remain  with  him 
for  company,  you  had  better  do  so." 

"I  will,  sir." 

"Hannah,"  said  Mr.  Jennings,  as  his  mes- 
senger left  with  the  note,  "Carl  is  a  pleasant 
addition  to  our  little  household?" 

"Yes,  indeed  he  is,"  responded  Hannah,  em- 
phatically. 

"If  he  was  twice  the  trouble  I'd  be  glad  to 
have  him  here." 

"He  is  easy  to  get  along  with." 

"Surely." 

"Yet  his  stepmother  drove  him  from  his  fa- 
ther's house." 


Driven    from    Home.  159 

"She's  a  wicked  trollop,  then !"  said  Han- 
nah, in  a  deep,  stern  voice.  "I'd  like  to  get 
hold  of  her,  I  would." 

"What  would  you  do  to  her?"  asked  Mr.  Jen- 
nings, smiling. 

"I'd  give  her  a  good  shaking,'*  answered 
Hannah. 

"I  believe  you  would,  Hannah,"  said  Mr. 
Jennings,  amused.  "On  the  whole,  I  think  she 
had  better  keep  out  of  your  clutches.  Still, 
but  for  her  we  would  never  have  met  with  Carl. 
What  is  his  father's  loss  is  our  gain." 

"What  a  poor,  weak  man  his  father  must 
be,"  said  Hannah,  contemptuously,  "to  let  a 
woman  like  her  turn  him  against  his  own  flesh 
and  blood!" 

"I  agree  with  you,  Hannah.  I  hope  some 
time  he  may  see  his  mistake." 

Carl  kept  on  his  way  to  the  hotel.  It  was 
summer  and  Mr.  Thorndike  was  sitting  on  the 
piazza  smoking  a  cigars  To  him  Carl  deliv- 
ered the  note. 

"It's  all  right!"  he  said,  rapidly  glancing 
it  over.  "You  may  tell  Mr.  Jennings,"  and 
here  he  gave  an  answrer  to  the  question  asked 
in  the  letter. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  will  remember." 

"Won't  you  sit  down  and  keep  me  company 
a  little  while?"  asked  Thorndike,  who  was  so- 
ciably inclined. 


160  Driven    from    Home. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  and  Carl  sat  down  in  a 
chair  beside  him. 

"Will  you  have  a  cigar?" 

"No,  thank  you,  sir.    I  don't  smoke." 

"That  is  where  you  are  sensible.  I  began 
to  smoke  at  fourteen,  and  now  I  find  it  hard 
to  break  off.  M37  doctor  tells  me  it  is  hurt- 
ing me,  but  the  chains  of  habit  are  strong." 

"All  the  more  reason  for  forming  good  hab- 
its, sir." 

"Spoken  like  a  philosopher.  Are  you  in  the 
employ  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Jennings?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Learning  the  business?" 

"That  is  my  present  intention." 

"If  you  ever  come  out  to  Chicago,  call  on 
me,  and  if  you  are  out  of  a  place,  I  will  give 
you  one." 

"Are  you  not  a  little  rash,  Mr.  Thorndike, 
to  offer  me  a  place  when  you  know  so  little  of 
me?" 

"I  trust  a  good  deal  to  looks.  I  care  more 
for  them  than  for  recommendations." 

At  that  moment  Phil  Stark  came  out  of  the 
hotel,  and  passing  them,  stepped  off  the  piazza 
into  the  street. 

Mr.  Thorndike  half  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
looked  after  him. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  asked,  in  an  exciting 
whisper. 


Driven   from    Home.  i5i 

"A  man  named  Stark,  who  is  boarding  at 
(lie  hotel.     Do  you  know  him?" 

"Do  I  know  him?"  repeated  Thorndike.  "He 
is  one  of  the  most  successful  burglars  in  the 
West." 


i6z  Driven    from    Home. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

PREPARING  FOR  THE  BURGLAR. 

Carl  stared  at  Mr.  Thorndike  in  surprise 
and  dismay. 

"A  burglar!'-  he  ejaculated. 

"Yes;  I  was  present  in  the  courtroom  when 
he  was  convicted  of  robbing  the  Springfield 
bank.  1  sat  there  for  three  hours,  and  his  face 
was  impressed  upon  my  memory.  I  saw  him 
later  on  in  the  Joliet  Penitentiary.  I  was  vis- 
iting the  institution  and  saw  the  prisoners  file 
out  into  the  yard.  1  recognized  this  man  in- 
stantly. Do  you  know  how  long  he  has  been 
here?" 

"For  two  weeks  I  should  think." 

"He  has  some  dishonest  scheme  in  his  head, 
I  have  no  doubt.  Have  you  a  bank  in  Mil- 
ford?" 

"Yes." 

"He  may  have  some  design  upon  that." 

"He  is  very  intimate  with  our  bookkeeper, 
so  his  nephew  tells  me." 


Driven    from    Home.  163 

Mr.  Thorndike  looked  startled. 

"Ha!  I  scent  danger  to  niy  friend,  Mr.  Jen- 
nings.    He  ought  to  be  apprised." 

"He  shall  be,  sir,"  said  Carl,  firmly. 

"Will  you  see  him  to-night?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  am  not  only  in  his  employ,  but 
I  live  at  his  house." 

"That  is  well." 

"Perhaps  I  ought  to  go  home  at  once." 

"No  attempt  will  be  made  to  rob  the  office 
till  late.  It  is  scarcely  eight  o'clock.  I  don't 
know,  however,  but  I  will  walk  around  to  the 
house  with  you,  and  tell  your  employer  what 
I  know.  By  the  way,  what  sort  of  a  man  is 
the  bookkeeper?" 

"I  don't  know  him  very  well,  sir.  He  has 
a  nephew  in  the  office,  who  was  transferred 
from  the  factory.     I  have  taken  his  place." 

"Do  you  think  the  bookkeeper  would  join  in 
a  plot  to  rob  his  employer?" 

"I  don't  like  him.  To  me  he  is  always  dis- 
agreeable, but  I  would  not  like  to  say  that." 

"How  long  has  he  been  in  the  employ  of  Mr. 
Jennings?" 

"As  long  as  two  years,  I  should  think." 

"You  say  that  this  man  is  intimate  with 
him?" 

"Leonard  Craig — he  is  the  nephew — says 
that  Mr.  Philip  Stark  is  at  his  uncle's  house 
every  evening." 


164  Driven    from    Home. 

"So  he  calls  himself  Philip  Stark,  does  he?" 

"Isn't  that  his  name?" 

"I  suppose  it  is  one  of  his  names.  Tie  was 
convicted  under  that  name,  and  retains  it  here 
on  account  of  its  being  so  far  from  the  place 
of  his  conviction.  Whether  it  is  his  real  name 
or  not,  I  do  not  know.  What  is  the  name  of 
your  bookkeeper?" 

"Julius  Gibbon." 

"I  don't  remember  ever  having  heard  it.  Evi- 
dently there  has  been  some  past  acquaintance 
between  the  two  men,  and  that,  I  should  say, 
is  hardly  a  recommendation  for  Mr.  Gibbon. 
Of  course  that  alone  is  not  enough  to  condemn 
him,  but  the  intimacy  is  certainly  a  suspicious 
circumstance." 

The  two  soon  reached  the  house  of  Mr.  Jen- 
nings, for  the  distance  was  only  a  quarter  of 
a  mile. 

Mr.  Jennings  seemed  a  little  surprised,  but 
gave  a  kindly  welcome  to  his  unexpected  guest. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  have  come  to 
give  some  extra  order  for  goods. 

"You  are  surprised  to  see  me,"  said  Thorn* 
dike.     "I  came  on  a  very  important  matter." 

A  look  of  inquiry  came  over  the  face  of  Mr. 
Jennings. 

"There's  a  thief  in  the  village — a  guest  at 
the  hotel — whom  I  recognize  as  one  of  the  most 
expert  burglars  in  the  country." 


Driven   from    Home.  165 

"I  think  I  know  whom  you  mean,  a  man  of 
moderate  height,  rather  thick  set,  with  small, 
black  eyes,  and  a  slouch  hat." 

"Exactly." 

"What  can  you  tell  me  about  him?" 

Mr.  Thorndike  repeated  the  statement  he 
had  already  made  to  Carl. 

"Do  you  think  our  bank  is  in  danger?"  asked 
the  manufacturer. 

"Perhaps  so,  but  the  chief  danger  threat- 
ens you." 

Mr.  Jennings  looked  surprised. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"Because  this  man  appears  to  be  very  in- 
timate with  your  bookkeeper." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  asked  the  little 
toan,  quickly. 

"I  refer  you  to  Carl." 

"Leonard  Craig  told  me  to-night  that  this 
man  Stark  spent  every  evening  at  his  uncle's 
house." 

Mr.  Jennings  looked  troubled. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  this,"  he  said.  "I  dis- 
like to  lose  confidence  in  any  man  whom  I  have 
trusted." 

"Have  you  noticed  anything  unusual  in  the 
demeanor  of  your  bookkeeper  of  late?"  asked 
Thorndike. 

"Yes;  he  has  appeared  out  of  spirits  and 
nervous." 


1 66  Driven    from    Home. 

"That  would  seem  to  indicate  he  is  conspir- 
ing to  rob  you." 

"This  very  day,  noticing  the  change  in  him. 
I  offered  him  a  week's  vacation.  lie  promptly 
declined  to  take  it." 

"Of  course.  It  would  conflict  with  the  plans 
of  his  confederate.  I  don't  know  the  man,  but 
I  do  know  human  nature,  and  I  venture  to 
predict  that  your  safe  will  be  opened  within 
a  week.  Do  vou  keep  anything  of  value  in 
it?" 

"There  are  my  books,  which  are  of  great 
value  to  me." 

"But  not  to  a  thief.     Anything  else?" 

"Yes;  I  have  a  tin  box  containing  four  thou 
sand  dollars  in  government  bonds." 

"Coupon  or  registered?" 

"Coupon." 

"Nothing  could  be  better — for  a  burglar. 
What  on  earth  could  induce  you  to  keep  the 
bonds  in  your  own  safe?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  considered  them  quite 
as  safe  there  as  in  the  bank.  Banks  are  more 
likely  to  be  robbed  than  private  individuals." 

"Circumstances  alter  cases.  Does  anyone 
know  that  you  have  the  bonds  in  your  safe?" 

"My  bookkeeper  is  aware  of  it." 

"Then,  my  friend,  I  caution  you  to  remove 
the  bonds  from  so  unsafe  a  depository  as  soon 
us  possible.     Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken, 


Driven    from    Home.  167 

this  man,  Stark,  has  bought  over  your  book- 
keeper, and  will  have  his  aid  in  robbing  you." 

"What  is  your  advice?" 

"To  remove  the  bonds  this  very  evening," 
said  Thorndike. 

"Do  you  think  the  danger  so  pressing?" 

"Of  course  I  don't  know  that  an  attempt 
will  be  made  to-night,  but  it  is  quite  possible. 
Should  it  be  so,  you  w  ould  have  an  opportunity 
to  realize  that  delays  are  dangerous." 

"Should  Mr.  Gibbon  find,  on  opening  the 
safe  to-morrow  morning,  that  the  box  is  gone, 
it  may  lead  to  an  attack  upon  my  house." 

"I  wish  you  to  leave  the  box  in  the  safe." 

"But  I  understand  that  you  advised  me  to 
remove  it." 

"Not  the  box,  but  the  bonds.  Listen  to  my 
plan.  Cut  out  some  newspaper  slips  of  about 
the  same  bulk  as  the  bonds,  put  them  in  place 
of  the  bonds  in  the  box,  and  quietly  transfer 
the  bonds  in  your  pocket  to  your  own  house. 
To-morrow  you  can  place  them  in  the  bank. 
Should  no  burglary  be  attempted,  let  the  box 
remain  in  the  safe,  just  as  if  its  contents  were 
valuable." 

"Your  advice  is  good,  and  I  will  adopt  it," 
said  Jennings,  "and  thank  you  for  your  val- 
uable and  friendly  instruction." 

"If  agreeable  to  you  I  will  accompany  you 
to  the  office  at  once.     The  bonds  cannot  be  re- 


1 68  Driven    from    Home. 

■  moved  too  soon.  Then  if  anyone  sees  us  en- 
tering, it  will  be  thought  that  you  are  show- 
ing me  the  factory.  It  will  divert  suspicion, 
even  if  we  are  seen  by  Stark  or  your  book- 
keeper." 

"May  I  go,  too?"  asked  Carl,  eagerly. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  manufacturer.  "I 
know,  Carl,  that  you  are  devoted  to  my  inter- 
ests. It  is  a  comfort  to  know  this,  now  that 
I  have  cause  to  suspect  my  bookkeeper." 
•  It  was  only  a  little  after  nine.  The  night 
was  moderately  dark,  and  Carl  was  intrusted 
with  a  wax  candle,  which  he  put  in  his  pocket 
for  use  in  the  office.  They  reached  the  fac- 
tory without  attracting  attention,  and  entered 
by  the  office  door. 

Mr.  Jennings  opened  the  safe-— he  and  the 
bookkeeper  alone  knew  the  combination — and 
with  some  anxiety  took  out  the  tin  box.  It 
was  possible  that  the  contents  had  already 
been  removed.  But  no!  on  opening  it,  the 
bonds  were  found  intact.  According  to  Mr. 
Thorndike's  advice,  he  transferred  them  to  his 
pocket,  and  substituted  folded  paper.  Then, 
replacing  everything,  the  safe  was  once  more 
locked,  and  the  three  left  the  office. 

Mr.  Thorndike  returned  to  the  hotel,  and 
Mr.  Jennings  to  his  house,  but  Carl  asked  per- 
mission to  remain  out  a  while  longer. 

"It  is  on  my  mind  that  an  attempt  will  be 


Driven    from    Home.  169 

made  to-night  to  rob  the  safe,"  he  said.  "I 
want  to  watch  near  the  factory  to  see  if  my 
suspicion  is  correct." 

"Very  well,   Carl,  but  don't  stay  out  too 
long!"  said  his  employer. 

"Suppose  I  see  them  entering  the  office,  sir?" 
"Don't  interrupt  them !  They  will  find  them- 
selves badly  fooled.     Notice  only  if  Mr.  Gib- 
bon is  of  the  party.     I  must  know  whether  my 
bookkeeper  is  to  be  trusted." 


i7o  Driven   from   Home. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  BURGLARY. 

Carl  seated  himself  behind  a  stone  wall  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street  from  the  factory. 
The  building  was  on  the  outskirts  of  the  vil- 
lage, though  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from 
the  post  office,  and  there  was  very  little  travel 
in  that  direction  during  the  evening.  This 
made  it  more  favorable  for  thieves,  though  up 
to  the  present  time  no  burglarious  attempt 
had  been  made  on  it.  Indeed,  Mil  ford  had  been 
exceptionally  fortunate  in  that  respect.  Neigh- 
boring towns  had  been  visited,  some  of  them 
several  times,  but  Milford  had  escaped. 

The  night  was  quite  dark,  but  not  what  is 
called  pitchy  dark.  As  the  eyes  became  ac- 
customed to  the  obscurity,  they  were  able  to 
see  a  considerable  distance.  So  it  was  with 
Carl.  From  his  place  of  concealment  he  oc- 
casionally raised  his  head  and  looked  across 
the  way  to  the  factory.  An  hour  passed,  and 
he  grew  tired.  It  didn't  look  as  if  the  at- 
tempt were  to  be  made  that  night.  Eleven 
o'clock  pealed  out  from  the  spire  of  the  Bap- 


Driven   from    Home.  1711 

tist  Church,  a  quarter  of  a  niile  away.  Carl 
counted  the  strokes,  and  when  the  last  died 
into  silence,  he  said  to  himself: 

"I  will  stay  here  about  ten  minutes  longer. 
Then,  if  no  one  comes,  I  will  give  it  up  for  to- 
night." 

The  time  was  nearly  up  when  his  quick  ear 
caught  a  low  murmur  of  voices.  Instantly 
he  was  on  the  alert.  Waiting  till  the  sound 
came  nearer,  he  ventured  to  raise  his  head  for 
an  instant  above  the  top  of  the  wall. 

His  heart  beat  with  excitement  when  he  saw 
two  figures  approaching.  Though  it  was  so 
dark,  he  recognized  them  by  their  size  and  out- 
lines. They  were  Julius  Gibbon,  the  book- 
keeper, and  Phil  Stark,  the  stranger  staying 
at  the  hotel. 

Carl  watched  closely,  raising  his  head  for 
a  few  seconds  at  a  time  above  the  wall,  ready 
to  lower  it  should  either  glance  m  his  direc- 
tion. But  neither  of  the  men  did  so.  Ignorant 
that  they  were  suspected,  it  was  the  farthest 
possible  from  their  thoughts  that  anyone 
would  be  on  the  watch. 

Presently  they  came  so  near  that  Carl  could 
hear  their  voices. 

"I  wish  it  was  over,"  murmured  Gibbon, 
nervously. 

"Don't  worry,"'  said  his  companion.  "Thero 
is  no  occasion  for  haste.     Everybody  in  Mil- 


172  Driven    from    Home. 

-ford  is  in  bed  and  asleep,  and  we  have  several 
hours  at  our  disposal." 

"You  must  remember  that  my  reputation  is 
at  stake.     This  night's  work  may  undo  me." 

"My  friend,  you  can  afford  to  take  the 
chances.  Haven't  I  agreed  to  give  you  half 
the  bonds?" 

"I  shall  be  suspected,  and  shall  be  obliged 
to  stand  my  ground,  while  you  will  disappear 
from  the  scene." 

"Two  thousand  dollars  will  pay  you  for  some 
inconvenience.  I  don't  see  why  you  should  be 
suspected.  You  will  be  supposed  to  be  fast 
asleep  on  your  virtuous  couch,  while  some  bad 
burglar  is  robbing  your  worthy  employer.  Of 
course  you  will  be  thunderstruck  when  in  the 
morning  the  appalling  discovery  is  made.  I'll 
tell  you  what  will  be  a  good  dodge  for  you." 

"Well?" 

"Offer  a  reward  of  a  hundred  dollars  from 
your  own  purse  for  the  discovery  of  the  vil- 
lain who  has  robbed  the  safe  and  abstracted 
the  bonds." 

Phil  Stark  burst  out  into  a  loud  guffaw  as 
he  uttered  these  words. 

"Hush!"  said  Gibbon,  timidly.  "I  thought 
I  heard  some  one  moving." 

"What  a  timid  fool  you  are!"  muttered 
Stark,  contemptuously.  "If  I  had  no  more 
pluck,  I'd  hire  myself  out  to  herd  cow*." 


Driven    from    Home.  173 

"It's  a  better  business/1  said  Gibbon,  bit- 
terly. 

"Well,  well,  each  to  bis  taste!  If  you  lose 
your  place  as  bookkeeper,  .you  might  offer  your 
services  to  some  farmer.  As  for  me,  the  dan- 
ger, though  there  isn't  much,  is  just  enough 
to  make  it  exciting." 

"I  don't  care  for  any  such  excitement,"  said 
Gibbon,  dispiritedly.  "Why  couldn't  you  have 
kept  away  and  let  me  earn  an  honest  living?" 

"Because  I  must  live  as  well  as  you,  my  dear 
friend.  When  this  little  affair  is  over,  you 
will  thank  me  for  helping  you  to  a.  good  thing." 

Of  course  all  this  conversation  did  not  take 
place  within  Carl's  hearing.  While  it  was  go- 
ing on,  the  men  had  opened  the  office  door  and 
entered.  Then,  as  Carl  watched  the  window 
closely  he  saw  a  narrow  gleam  of  light  from 
a  dark  lantern  illuminating  the  interior. 

"Now  they  are  at  the  safe,"  thought  Carl. 

We,  who  are  privileged,  will  enter  the  of- 
fice  and  watch  the  proceedings. 

Gibbon  had  no  difficulty  in  opening  the  safe, 
for  he  was  acquainted  with  the  combination. 
Stark  thrust  in  his  hand  eagerly  and  drew  out 
the  box. 

"This  is  what  we  want,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
of  satisfaction.  "Have  you  a  key  that  will 
open  it?" 

"No." 


174  Driven    from    Home. 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  take  box  and  all." 

"Let  us  get  through  as  soon  as  possible," 
said  Gibbon,  uneasily. 

"You  can  close  the  safe,  if  you  want  to. 
There  is  nothing  else  worth  taking?" 

"'No." 

"Then  we  will  evacuate  the  premises.  Is 
there  an  old  newspaper  I  can  use  to  wrap  up 
the  box  in?  It  might  look  suspicious  if  any- 
one should  see  it  in  our  possession." 

"Yes,  here  is  one." 

He  handed  a  copy  of  a.  weekly  paper  to  Phil 
Stark,  who  skillfully  wrapped  up  the  box,  and 
placing  it  under  his  arm,  went  out  of  the  of- 
fice, leaving  Gibbon  to  follow. 

"Where  will  you  carry  it?"  asked  Gibbon. 

"Somewhere  out  of  sight  where  I  can  safely 
open  it.  I  should  have  preferred  to  take  the 
bonds,  and  leave  the  box  in  the  safe.  Then 
the  bonds  might  not  have  been  missed  for  a 
week  or  more." 

"That  would  have  been  better." 

That  was  the  last  that  Carl  heard.  The 
two  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  and  Carl, 
raising  himself  from  his  place  of  concealment, 
stretched  his  cramped  limbs  and  made  the  best 
of  his  way  home.  He  thought  no  one  would 
be  up,  but  Mr.  Jennings  came  out  from  the 
sitting-room,  where  he  had  flung  himself  on  a 
lounge,  and  met  Carl  in  the  hall. 


Driven    from    Home.  175 

"Well?"  he  said. 

"The  safe  has  beeu  robbed." 

"Who  did  it?"  asked  the  manufacturer, 
quickly. 

"The  two  we  suspected." 

"Did  you  see  Mr.  Gibbon,  then?" 

"Yes;  he  was  accompanied  by  Mr.  Stark." 

"You  saw  them  enter  the  factory?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  was  crouching  behind  the  stone 
wall  on  the  other  side  of  the  road." 

"How  long  were  they  inside?" 

"Not  over  fifteen  minutes — perhaps  only 
ten." 

"Mr.  Gibbon  knew  the  combination,"  said 
Jennings,  quietly.  "There  was  no  occasion 
to  lose  time  in  breaking  open  the  safe  There 
is  some  advantage  in  having  a  friend  inside. 
Did  you  see  them  go  out?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Carrying  the  tin  box  with  them?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Mr.  Stark  wrapped  it  in  a  news- 
paper after  they  got  outside." 

"But  you  saw  the  tin  box?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,  if  necessary,  you  can  testify  to  it.  I 
thought  it  possible  that  Mr.  Gibbon  might  have 
a  key  to  open  it." 

"I  overheard  Stark  regretting  that  he  could 
not  open  it  so  as  to  abstract  the  bonds  and 
leave  the  box  in  the  safe.      In  that  case,  he 


176  Driven    from    Home. 

&  said,  it  might  be  some  time  before  the  robbery 
was  discovered." 

"He  will  himself  make  an  unpleasant  dis- 
covery when  he  opens  the  box.  I  don't  think 
there  is  any  call  to  pity  him,  do  you,  Carl?" 

"No,  sir.  I  should  like  to  be  within  sight 
when  he  opens  it." 

The  manufacturer  laughed  quietly. 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "if  I  could  see  it  I  should 
feel  repaid  for  the  loss  of  the  box.  Let  it  be 
a  lesson  for  you,  my  boy.  Those  who  seek  to 
enrich  themselves  by  unlawful  means  are  likely 
in  the  ecd  $0  meet  with  disappointment." 

"Do  you  think  I  need  the  lesson?"  asked 
Carl,  smiling. 

"No,  my  lad.  I  am  sure  you  don't.  But 
you  do  need  a  good  night's  rest  Let  us  go 
to  bed  at  once,  and  get  what  sleep  we  may.  I 
won't  allow  the  burglary  to  keep  me  awake." 

He  laughed  in  high  good  humor,  and  Carl 
went  up  to  his  comfortable  room,  where  he  soon 
lost  all  remembrance  of  the  exciting  scene  of 
which  he  had  been  a  witness. 

Mr.  Jennings  went  to  the  factory  at  the 
usual  time  the  next  morning. 

As  he  entered  the  office  the  bookkeeper  ap- 
proached him  pale  and  excited. 

"Mr.  Jennings,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  "I  have 
bad  news  for  you." 

"What  is  it,  Mr.  Gibbom?" 


Driven   from    Home.  177 

"When  I  opened  the  safe  this  morning,  I  dis- 
covered that  the  tin  box  had  been  stolen." 

Mr.  Jennings  took  the  news  quietly. 

"Have  you  any  suspicion  who  took  it?"  he 
asked. 

"No,  sir.  I — I  hope  the  loss  is  not  a  heavy 
one." 

"I  do  not  care  to  make  the  extent  of  the  loss 
public.  Were  there  any  marks  of  violence? 
Was  the  safe  broken  open?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Singular;  is  it  not?" 

"If  you  will  allow  me  I  will  join  in  offer- 
ing a  reward  for  the  discovery  of  the  thief.  I 
feel  in  a  measure  responsible." 

"I  will  think  of  your  offer,  Mr.  Gibbon." 

"He  suspects  nothing,"  thought  Gibbon, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief. 


178  Driven   from   Home. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

STARK'S  DISAPrOINTMENT. 

Philip  Stark  went  back  to  the  hotel  with 
the  tin  box  under  his  arm.  He  would  like  to 
have  entered  the  hotel  without  notice,  but  this 
was  impossible,  for  the  landlord's  nephew  was 
just  closing  up.  Though  not  late  for  the  city, 
it  was  very  late  for  the  country,  and  he  looked 
surprised  when  Stark  came  in. 

"I  am  out  late,"  said  Stark,  with  a  smile. 

"Yes." 

"That  is,  late  for  Mil  ford.  In  the  city  I 
never  go  to  bed  before  midnight." 

"Have  you  been  out  walking?" 

"Yes." 

"You  found  it  rather  dark,  did  you  not?" 

"It  is  dark  as  a  pocket." 

"You  couldn't  have  found  the  walk  a  very 
pleasant  one." 

"You  are  right,  my  friend;  but  I  didn't  walk 
for  pleasure.  The  fact  is,  I  am  rather  wor- 
ried about  a  business  matter.  T  have  learned 
that  I  am  threatened  with  a  heavy  loss — an 


Driven    from    Home.  179 

unwise  investment  in  the  West — and  I  wanted 
time  to  think  it  over  and  decide  how  to  act." 

"I  see,"  answered  the  clerk,  respectfully,  for 
Stark's  words  led  him  to  think  that  his  guest 
was  a  man  of  wealth. 

"I  wish  I  was  rich  enough  to  be  worried  by 
such  a  cause,"  he  said,  jokingly. 

"I  wish  you  were.  Some  time  I  may  be  able 
to  throw  something  in  your  way." 

"Do  you  think  it  would  pay  me  to  go  to  the 
West?"  asked  the  clerk,  eagerly. 

"I  think  it  quite  likely — if  you  know  some 
one  out  in  that  section." 

"But  I  don't  know  anyone." 

"You  know  me,"  said  Stark,  significantly. 

"Do  you  think  you  could  help  me  to  a  place, 
Mr.  Stark?" 

"I  think  I  could.  A  month  from  now  write 
to  me — Col.  Philip  Stark,  at  Denver,  Colorado, 
and  I  will  see  if  I  can  find  an  opening  for  you." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mr. — I  mean  Col. 
Stark,"  said  the  clerk,  gratefully. 

"Oh,  never  mind  about  the  title,"  returned 
Stark,  smiling  good-naturedly.  "I  only  gave 
it  to  you  just  now,  because  everybody  in  Den- 
ver knows  me  as  a  colonel,  and  1  am  afraid  a 
letter  otherwise  addressed  would  not  reach  me. 
By  the  way,  I  am  sorry  that  I  shall  probablv 
have  to  leave  you  to-morrow." 

"So  soon?'r 


180  Driven    from    Home. 

"Yes;  it's  this  tiresome  business.  I  should 
not  wonder  if  I  might  lose  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars through  the  folly  of  my  agent.  I  shall 
probably  have  to  go  out  to  right  things." 

"I  couldn't  afford  to  lose  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars," said  the  young  man,  regarding  the  cap* 
italist  before  him  with  deference. 

"No,  I  expect  not.  At  your  age  I  wasn't 
worth  ten  thousand  cents.  Now — but  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  Give  me  a  light,  please, 
and  I  will  go  up  to  bed." 

"He  was  about  to  say  how  much  he  is  worth 
now,"  soliloquized  the  clerk.  "I  wish  he  had 
not  stopped  short.  If  I  can't  be  rich  myself, 
I  like  to  talk  with  a  rich  man.  There's  hope 
for  me,  surely.  He  says  that  at  my  age  he  Avas 
not  worth  ten  thousand  cents.  That  is  only 
a  hundred  dollars,  and  I  am  worth  that.  I 
must  keep  it  to  pay  my  expenses  to  Colorado, 
if  he  should  send  for  me  in  a  few  weeks." 

The  young  man  had  noticed  with  some  cu- 
riosity the  rather  oddly-shaped  bundle  which 
Stark  carried  under  his  arm,  but  could  not 
see  his  way  clear  to  asking  any  questions  about 
it.  It  seemed  queer  that  Stark  should  have 
it  with  him  while  walking.  Come  to  think  of 
it,  he  remembered  seeing  him  go  out  in  the 
early  evening,  and  he  was  quite  confident  that 
at  that  time  he  had  no  bundle  with  him.  How 
ever,  he  was  influenced  only  by  a  spirit  of  idle 


Driven   from    Home.  1811 

curiosity.  He  had  no  idea  that  the  bundle  was 
of  any  importance  or  value.  The  next  day 
he  changed  his  opinion  on  that  subject 

Phil  Stark  went  up  to  his  chamber,  and  set- 
ting the  lamp  on  the  bureau,  first  carefully 
locked  the  door,  and  then  removed  the  paper 
from  the  tin  box.  He  eyed  it  lovingly,  and 
tried  one  by  one  the  keys  he  had  in  his  pocket, 
but  none  exactly  fitted. 

As  he  was  experimenting  he  thought  with 
a  smile  of  the  night  clerk  from  whom  he  had 
just  parted. 

"Stark,"  he  soliloquized,  addressing  himself, 
"you  are  an  old  humbug.  You  have  cleverly 
duped  that  unsophisticated  young  man  down- 
stairs. He  looks  upon  you  as  a  man  of  un- 
bounded wealth,  evidently,  while,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  you  are  almost  strapped.  Let  me 
see  how  much  I  have  got  left." 

He  took  out  his  wallet,  and  counted  out 
seven  dollars  and  thirty-eight  cents. 

"That  can  hardly  be  said  to  constitute 
wealth,"  he  reflected,  "but  it  is  all  I  have  over 
and  above  the  contents  of  this  box.  That  makes 
all  the  difference.  Gibbon  is  of  opinion  that 
there  are  four  thousand  dollars  in  bonds  in- 
side, and  he  expects  me  to  give  him  half.  Shall 
I  do  it?  Nol  '  fool!  I'll  give  him 
teen  hundi  '0  balance  my 

That'll  pay  him  handsomely,  and  the  rest  will 


182  Driven    from    Home. 

be  a  good  nestegg  for  me.  If  Gibbon  is  only 
half  shrewd  he  will  pull  the  wool  over  the  eyes 
of  that  midget  of  an  employer,  and  retain  his 
place  and  comfortable  salary.  There  will  be 
no  evidence  against  him,  and  he  can  pose  as 
an  innocent  man.  Bah!  what  a  lot  of 
humbug  there  is  in  the  world.  Well, 
well,  Stark,  you  have  your  share,  no 
doubt.  Otherwise  how  would  you  make 
a  living?  To-morrow  I  must  clear  out 
from  Milford,  and  give  it  a  wide  berth  in 
future.  I  suppose  there  will  be  a  great  hue- 
and-cry  about  the  robbery  of  the  safe.  It  will 
be  just  as  well  for  me  to  be  somewhere  else. 
I  have  already  given  the  clerk  a  good  reason 
for  my  sudden  departure.  Confound  it,  it's 
a  great  nuisance  that  I  can't  open  this  box!  I 
would  like  to  know  before  I  go  to  bed  just  how 
much  boodle  I  have  acquired.  Then  I  can 
decide  how  much  to  give  Gibbon.  If  I  dared 
I'd  keep  the  Avhole,  but  he  might  make  trou- 
ble." 

Phil  Stark,  or  Col.  Philip  Stark,  as  he  had 
given  his  name,  had  a  large  supply  of  keys, 
but  none  of  them  seemed  to  fit  the  tin  box. 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  excite  suspicion  if  I  sit 
up  any  longer,"  thought  Stark.  "I  will  go 
to  bed  and  get  up  early  in  the  morning.  Then 
I  mav  succeed  better  in  opening  this  plaguy 
box."' 


Driven    from    Home.  183 

He  removed  his  clothing  and  got  into  bed. 
The  evening  had  been  rather  an  exciting  one, 
but  the  excitement  was  a  pleasurable  one,  for 
lie  had  succeeded  in  the  plan  which  he  and  the 
bookkeeper  had  so  ingeniously  formed  and  car- 
ried out,  and  here  within  reach  was  the  rich 
reward  after  which  they  had  striven.  Mr. 
Stark  was  not  troubled  with  a  conscience — ■ 
that  he  had  got  rid  of  years  ago — and  he  was 
filled  with  a  comfortable  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing retrieved  his  fortunes  when  they  were  on 
the  wane.  So,  in  a  short  time  he  fell  asleep, 
and  slept  peacefully.  Toward  morning,  how- 
ever, he  had  a  disquieting  dream.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  he  awoke  suddenly  from  slumber, 
and  saw  Gibbon  leaving  the  room  with  the  tin 
box  under  his  arm.  He  awoke  really  with 
beads  of  perspiration  upon  his  brow — awoke 
to  see  by  the  sun  streaming  in  at  his  window- 
that  the  morning  was  well  advanced,  and  the 
tin  box  was  still  safe. 

"Thank  Heaven,  it  was  but  a  dream!"  he 
murmured.  "I  must  get  up  and  try  once  more 
to  open  the  box." 

The  keys  had  all  been  tried,  and  had  proved 
not  to  fit.  Mr.  Stark  was  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency. He  took  from  his  pocket  a  button  book 
and  bent  it  so  as  to  make  a  pick,  and  after  a 
little  experimenting  succeeded  in  turning  the 
lock,     lie  lifted  the  lid  eagerly,  and  with  dis- 


184  Driven   from    Home. 

1  tended  ^yes  prepared  to  gloat  upon  the  stolen 
bonds.  But  over  his  face  there  came  a  start- 
ling change.  The  ashy  blue  hue  of  disappoint- 
ment succeeded  the  glowing,  hopeful  look.  He 
snatched  at  one  of  the  folded  slips  of  paper  and 
opened  it.  Alas !  it  was  valueless,  mere  waste 
paper.  He  sank  into  a  chair  in  a  limp,  hope- 
less posture,  quite  overwhelmed.  Then  he 
sprang  up  suddenlv ,  and  his  expression 
changed  to  one  of  fury  and  menace. 

"If  Julius  Gibbon  has  played  this  trick  upon 
me,"  he  said,  between  his  set  teeth,  "he  shall 
repent  it — bitterly!" 


Driven   trom   Home.  :i8$ 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

A    DISAGREEABLE    SURPRISE. 

Philip  Stark  sat  down  to  breakfast  in  a 
savage  frame  of  mind.  He  wanted  to  be  re- 
venged upon  Gibbon,  whom  he  suspected  of 
having  deceived  him  by  opening  and  appro- 
priating the  bonds,  and  then  arranged  to  have 
him  carry  off  the  box  filled  with  waste  paper. 

He  sat  at  the  table  but  five  minutes,  for  he 
had  little  or  no  appetite. 

From  the  breakfast  room  ho  went  out  on 
the  piazza,  and  with  corrugated  brows  smoked 
a  cigar,  but  it  failed  to  have  the  usual  sooth- 
ing effect. 

If  he  had  known  the  truth  he  would  have 
left  Milford  without  delay,  but  he  was  far 
from  suspecting  that  the  deception  practiced 
upon  him  had  been  arranged  by  the  man  whom 
he  wanted  to  rob.  While  there  seemed  little 
inducement  for  him  to  stay  in  Milford,  he  was 
determined  to  seek  the  bookkeeper,  and  ascer- 
tain whether,  as  he  suspected,  his  confederate 
had  in  his  possession  the  bonds  which  he  had 
been  scheming  for.     If  so,  he  would  compel 


1 86  Driven    from    Home. 

him  by  threats  to  disgorge  the  larger  portion, 
and  then  leave  town  at  once. 

But  the  problem  was,  how  to  see  him.  He 
felt  that  it  would  be  venturesome  to  go  round 
to  the  factory,  as  by  this  time  the  loss  might 
have  been  discovered.  If  only  the  box  had 
been  left,  the  discovery  might  be  deferred. 
Then  a  bright  idea  occurred  to  him.  He  must 
get  the  box  out  of  his  own  possession,  as  its 
discovery  would  compromise  him.  Why  could 
he  not  arrange  to  leave  it  somewhere  on  the 
premises  of  his  confederate? 

He  resolved  upon  the  instant  to  carry  out 
the  idea.  He  went  up  to  his  room,  wrapped 
the  tin  box  in  a  paper,  and  walked  round  to 
the  house  of  the  bookkeeper.  The  coast  seemed 
to  be  clear,  as  he  supposed  it  would  be.  He 
slipped  into  the  yard,  and  swiftly  entered  an 
outhouse.  There  was  a  large  wooden  chest, 
or  box,  which  had  once  been  used  to  store 
grain.  Stark  lifted  the  cover,  dropped  the 
box  inside,  and  then,  with  a  feeling  of  relief, 
walked  out  of  the  yard.  But  he  had  been  ob- 
served. Mrs.  Gibbon  chanced  to  be  looking 
out  of  a  side  window  and  saw  him.  She  rec- 
ognized him  as  the  stranger  who  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  spending  recent  evenings  with  her 
husband. 

"What  can  he  want  here  at  this  time?"  she 
asked  herself. 


Driven    from    Home.  187 

She  deliberated  whether  she  should  go  to 
the  door  and  speak  to  Stark,  but  decided  not 
to  do  so. 

"He  will  call  at  the  door  if  he  has  anything 
to  say,"  she  reflected. 

Phil  Stark  walked  on  till  he  reached  the  fac- 
tory. H  felt  that  he  must  see  Julius  Gibbon, 
and  satisfy  himself  as  to  the  meaning  of  the 
mysterious  substitution  of  waste  paper  for 
bonds. 

When  he  reached  a  point  where  he  could  see 
into  the  office,  he  caught  the  eye  of  Leonard, 
who  was  sitting  at  the  window.  He  beckoned 
for  him  to  come  out,  and  Leonard  was  glad  to 
do  so. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  the  book- 
keeper, observing  the  boy's  movement. 

"Mr.  Stark  is  just  across  the  street,  and  1k> 
beckoned  for  me." 

Julius  Gibbon  flushed  painfully,  and  he 
trembled  with  nervous  agitation,  for  he  feared 
something  had  happened. 

"Very  well,  go  out,  but  don't  stay  long." 

Leonard  crossed  the  street  and  walked  113  > 
to  Stark,  who  awaited  him,  looking  grim  and 
stern. 

"Your  uncle  is  inside?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Tell  him  I  wish  to  see  him  at  once — on  busi- 
ness of  importance." 


r88  Driven    from    Home. 

"He's  busy,"  said  Leonard.  "'He  doesn't 
leave  the  office  in  business  hours." 

"Tell  him  I  must  see  him — do  you  hear? 
He'll  come  fast  enough." 

"I  wonder  what  it's  all  about,"  thought 
Leonard,  whose  curiosity  was  naturally  ex- 
cited. 

"Wait  a  minute!"  said  Stark,  as  he  turned 
to  go.     "Is  Jennings  in?" 

"No,  sir,  he  has  gone  over  to  the  next  town." 

"Probably  the  box  has  not  been  missed, 
then,"  thought  Stark.  "So  much  the  better! 
I  can  find  out  how  matters  stand,  and  then 
leave  town." 

"Very  well!"  he  said,  aloud,  "let  your  un- 
cle understand  that  I  must  see  him." 

Leonard  carried  in  the  message.  Gibbon  made 
no  objection,  but  took  his  hat  and  went  out, 
leaving  Leonard  in  charge  of  the  office. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  he  asked,  hurriedly,  as 
he  reached  Stark.     "Is — is  the  box  all  right?" 

"Look  here,  Gibbon,"  said  Stark,  harshly, 
"have  you  been  playing  any  of  your  infernal 
tricks  upon  me?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  responded 
Gibbon,  bewildered. 

Stark  eyed  him  sharply,  but  the  bookkeeper 
was  evidently  sincere. 

"Is  there  anything  wrong?"  continued  the 
latter* 


Driven   from    Home.  J89 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  didn't  knov* 
that  wretched  box  was  filled  with  waste  pa 
per?" 

"You  don't  mean  it?"  exclaimed  Gibbon,  is 
dismay. 

"Yes,  I  do.  I  didn't  open  it  till  this  morn- 
ing, and  in  place  of  government  bonds,  I  found 
only  folded  slips  of  newspaper." 

By  this  time  Gibbon  was  suspicious.  Hav- 
ing no  confidence  in  Stark,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  it  was  a  ruse  to  deprive  him  of  his  share 
of  the  bonds. 

"I  don't  believe  you,"  he  said.  <rYou  wrant 
to  keep  all  the  bonds  for  yourself,  and  cheat 
me  out  of  my  share." 

"I  wish  to  Heaven  you  were  right.  If  there 
had  been  any  bonds,  I  would  have  acted  on  the 
square.  But  somebody  had  removed  them, 
and  substituted  paper.     I  suspected  you." 

"I  am  ready  to  swear  that  this  has  happened 
without  my  knowledge,"  said  Gibbon,  ear- 
nestly. 

"How,  then,  could  it  have  occurred?"  asked 
Stark. 

"I  don't  know,  upon  my  honor.  Where  is 
the  box?" 

"I — have  disposed  of  it." 

"You  should  have  waited  and  opened  it  be- 
fore me." 

"I  asked  you  if  you  had  a  key  that  would 


190  Driven    from    Home. 

open  it.  I  wanted  to  open  it  last  evening  in 
the  office." 

"True." 

"You  will  see  after  a  while  that  I  was  act- 
ing on  the  square.  You  can  open  it  for  your- 
self at  your  leisure." 

"How  can  I  ?    I  don't  know  where  it  is." 

"Then  I  can  enlighten  you,"  said  Stark, 
maliciously.  "When  you  go  home,  you  will 
find  it  in  a  chest  in  your  woodshed." 

Gibbon  turned  pale. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  carried  it 
to  my  house?"  he  exclaimed,  in  dismay. 

"Yes,  I  do.  I  had  no  further  use  for  it,  and 
thought  you  had  the  best  claim  to  it." 

"But,  good  heavens!  if  it  is  found  there  I 
shall  be  suspected." 

"Very  probably,"  answered  Stark,  coolly. 
"Take  my  advice  and  put  it  out  of  the  way." 

"How  could  you  be  so  inconsiderate?" 

"Because  I  suspected  you  of  playing  me  a 
trick." 

"I  swear  to  you,  I  didn't," 

"Then  somebody  has  tricked  both  of  us.  Has 
Mr.  Jennings  discovered  the  disappearance  of 
the  box?" 

"Yes,  I  told  him." 

"When?" 

"When  he  came  to  the  office." 

"What  did  he  say?" 


Driven   from   Home.  191 

"He  took  the  matter  coolly.  He  didn't  say 
much." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Gone  to  Winchester  on  business." 

"Look  here!  Do  you  think  he  suspects 
you?" 

"I  am  quite  sure  not.  That  is  why  I  told 
him  about  the  robbery." 

"He  might  suspect,  me." 

"He  said  nothing  about  suspecting  any- 
body." 

"Do  you  think  he  removed  the  bonds  and  sub* 
stituted  paper?" 

"I  don't  think  so." 

"If  this  were  the  case  we  should  both  be  in 
a  serious  plight.  I  think  I  had  better  get  out 
of  town.  You  will  have  to  lend  me  ten  dol- 
lars." 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can,  Stark." 

"You  must!"  said  Stark,  sternly,  "or  I  will 
reveal  the  whole  thing.  Remember,  the  box 
is  on  your  premises." 

"Heavens!  what  a  quandary  I  am  in,"  said 
the  bookkeeper,  miserably.  "That  must  be  at- 
tended to  at  once.  Why  couldn't  you  put  it 
anywhere  else?" 

"I  told  you  that  I  wanted  to  be  revenged 
upon  you." 

"I  wish  you  had  never  come  to  Milford," 
groaned  the  bookkeeper. 


192  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  wish  I  hadn't  myself,  us  things  have 
turned  out." 

They  prepared  to  start  for  Gibbon's  bouse, 
when  Mr.  Jennings  drove  up.  With  bim  were 
two  tall,  muscular  men,  whom  Stark  and  Gib- 
bon eyed  uneasily.  The  two  strangers  jumped 
out  of  the  carriage  and  advanced  toward  the 
two  confederates. 

"Arrest  those  men!"  said  Jennings,  in  a 
quiet  tone.  "I  charge  them  with  opening  and 
robbing  my  safe  last  night  about  eleven 
o'clock." 


Driven   from   Home.  193 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

BROUGHT  TO  BAY. 

Phil  Stark  made  an  effort  to  get  away,  but 
the  officer  was  too  quick  for  him.  In  a  trice 
he  was  handcuffed. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  outrage?"  de- 
manded Stark,  boldly. 

"I  have  already  explained,"  said  the  manu- 
facturer, quietly. 

"You  are  quite  on  the  wrong  tack,"  contin- 
ued Stark,  brazenly.  "Mr.  Gibbon  was  just 
informing  me  that  the  safe  had  been  opened 
and  robbed.     It  is  the  first  I  knew  of  it." 

Julius  Gibbon  seemed  quite  prostrated  by 
his  arrest.  He  felt  it  necessary  to  say  some- 
thing, and  followed  the  lead  of  his  companion. 

"You  will  bear  me  witness,  Mr.  Jennings," 
he  said,  "that  I  was  the  first  to  inform  you  of 
the  robbery.  If  I  had  really  committed  the 
burglary,  I  should  have  taken  care  to  escape 
during  the  night." 

"I  should  be  glad  to  believe  in  your  inno- 
cence," rejoined  the  manufacturer,  "but  I  know 
more  about  this  matter  than  you  suppose." 

"I  won't  answer  for  Mr.  Gibbon,"  said  Stark, 
who  cared  nothing  for  his  confederate,  if  he 


194  Driven    from    Home. 

could  contrive  to  effect  his  own  escape.  "Of 
course  he  had  opportunities,  as  bookkeeper, 
which  an  outsider  could  not  have." 

Gibbon  eyed  his  companion  in  crime  dis- 
trustfully. He  saw  that  Stark  was  intending 
to  throw  him  over. 

"I  am  entirely  willing  to  have  my  room  at 
the  hotel  searched,"  continued  Stark,  gather- 
ing confidence.  "If  you  find  any  traces  of  the 
stolen  property  there,  you  are  welcome  to  make 
the  most  of  them.  I  have  no  doubt  Mr.  Gib- 
bon will  make  you  the  same  offer  in  regard 
to  his  house." 

Gibbon  saw  at  once  the  trap  which  had  been 
so  craftily  prepared  for  him.  He  knew  that 
any  search  of  his  premises  would  result  in  the 
discovery  of  the  tin  box,  and  had  no  doubt  that 
Stark  would  he  ready  to  testify  to  any  false- 
hood likely  to  fasten  the  guilt  upon  him.  His 
anger  was  roused  and  he  forgot  his  prudence. 

"You — scoundrel!"  he  hissed  between  his 
closed  teeth. 

"You  seem  excited,"  sneered  Stark.  "Is 
it  possible  that  you  object  to  the  search?" 

"If  the  missing  box  is  found  on  my  prem- 
ises," said  Gibbon,  in  a  white  heat,  "it  is  be- 
cause you  have  concealed  it  there." 

Phil  Stark  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  think,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "that  settles 
it     I  am  afraid  Mr.  Gibbon  is  guilty.     I  shall 


Driven    from    Home.  19$ 

be  glad  to  assist  you  to  recover  the  stolen  prop- 
erty. Did  the  hox  contain  much  that  was 
of  value?" 

"I  must  caution  you  both  against  saying  any- 
thing that  will  compromise  you,"  said  one  of 
the  officers. 

"I  have  nothing  to  conceal,"  went  on  Stark, 
brazenly.  "I  am  obliged  to  believe  that  this 
man  committed  the  burglary.  It  is  against 
me  that  I  have  been  his  companion  for  the  last 
week  or  two,  but  I  used  to  know  him,  and  that 
will  account  for  it." 

The  unhappy  bookkeeper  saw  the  coils  clos- 
ing around  him. 

"I  hope  you  will  see  your  way  to  release  me," 
said  Stark,  addressing  himself  to  Mr.  Jen- 
nings. "I  have  just  received  information  that 
my  poor  mother  is  lying  dangerously  sick  in 
Cleveland,  and  I  am  anxious  to  start  for  her 
bedside  to-day." 

"Why  did  you  come  round  here  this  morn- 
ing?" asked  Mr.  Jennings. 

"To  ask  Mr.  Gibbon  to  repay  me  ten  dol- 
lars which  he  borrowed  of  me  the  other  day," 
returned  Stark,  glibly. 

"You — liar!"  exclaimed  Gibbon,  angrily. 

"I  am  prepared  for  this  man's  abuse,"  said 
Stark.  "I  don't  mind  admitting  now  that  a 
few  days  since  he  invited  me  to  join  him  in 
the  robbery  of  the  safe.     I  threatened  to  in- 


196  Driven    from    Home. 

form  you  of  his  plan,  and  he  promised  to  give 
it  up.  I  supposed  he  had  done  so,  but  it  is 
clear  to  me  now  that  he  carried  out  his  in- 
famous scheme." 

Mr.  Jennings  looked  amused.  He  admired 
Stark's  brazen  effrontery. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  this  charge,  Mr. 
Gibbon?"  he  asked. 

"Only  this,  sir,  that  I  was  concerned  in  the 
burglary." 

"He  admits  it!"  said  Stark,  triumphantly. 

"But  this  man  forced  me  to  it.  He  threat- 
ened to  write  you  some  particulars  of  my  past 
history  which  would  probably  have  lost  me  my 
position  if  I  did  not  agree  to  join  him  in  the 
conspiracy.  I  was  weak,  and  yielded.  Now 
he  is  ready  to  betray  me  to  save  himself." 

"Mr.  Jennings,"  said  Stark,  coldly,  "you 
will  know  what  importance  to  attach  to  the 
story  of  a  self-confessed  burglar.  Gibbon,  I 
hope  you  will  see  the  error  of  your  ways,  and 
restore  to  your  worthy  employer  the  box  of  val- 
uable property  which  you  stole  from  his  safe." 

"This  is  insufferable !"  cried  the  bookkeeper. 
"You  are  a  double-dyed  traitor,  Phil  Stark. 
You  were  not  only  my  accomplice,  but  you 
instigated  the  crime." 

"You  will  find  it  hard  to  prove  this,"  sneered 
Stark.  "Mr.  Jennings,  I  demand  my  liberty. 
If  you  have  any  humanity  you  will  not  keep 


Driven    from    Home.  197 

me  f**>ni  the  bediside  of  my  dying  mother." 

"I  admire  your  audacity,  Mr.  Stark,"  ob- 
served the  manufacturer,  quietly.  "Don't 
suppose  for  a  moment  that  I  give  the  least 
credit  to  your  statements." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Gibbon.  "I'm  ready  to 
accept  the  consequences  of  my  act,  but  I  don't 
want  that  scoundrel  and  traitor  to  go  free." 

"You  can't  prove  anything  against  me,"  said 
Stark,  doggedly,  "unless  you  accept  the  word 
of  a  self-confessed  burglar,  who  is  angry  with 
me  because  I  would  not  join  him." 

"All  these  protestations  it  would  be  better 
for  you  to  keep  till  your  trial  begins,  Mr. 
Stark,"  said  the  manufacturer.  "However,  I 
think  it  only  fair  to  tell  you  that  I  am  better 
informed  about  you  and  your  conspiracy  than 
you  imagine.  Will  you  tell  me  where  you  were 
at  eleven  o'clock  last  evening?" 

"I  was  in  my  room  at  the  hotel — no,  I  was 
taking  a  walk.  I  had  received  news  of  my 
mother's  illness,  and  I  was  so  much  disturbed 
and  grieved  that  I  could  not  remain  indoors." 

"You  were  seen  to  enter  the  office  of  this 
factory  with  Mr.  Gibbon,  and  after  ten  minutes 
came  out  with  the  tin  box  under  your  arm." 

"Who  saw  me?"  demanded  Stark,  uneasily. 

Carl  Crawford  came  forward  and  answered 
this  question. 

"I  did!"  he  said. 


198  Driven    from    Home. 

"A  likely  story!  You  were  in  bed  and 
asleep." 

"You  are  mistaken.  T  was  on  watch  behind 
the  stone  wall  just  opposite.  If  you  want 
proof,  I  can  repeat  some  of  the  conversation 
that  passed  between  you  and  Mr.  Gibbon." 

Without  waiting  for  the  request,  Carl  re 
hearsed  some  of  the  talk  already  recorded  in 
a  previous  chapter. 

Phil  Stark  began  to  see  that  things  were 
getting  serious  for  him,  but  he  was  game  to 
the  last. 

"I  deny  it,"  he  said,  in  a  loud  voice. 

"Do  you  also  deny  it,  Mr.  Gibbon?"  asked 
Mr.  Jennings. 

"No,  sir;  I  admit  it,"  replied  Gibbon,  with 
a  triumphant  glance  at  his  foiled  confederate. 

"This  is  a  conspiracy  against  an  innocent 
man,"  said  Stark,  scowling.  "You  want  to 
screen  your  bookkeeper,  if  possible.  No  one 
has  ever  before  charged  me  with  crime." 

"Then  how  does  it  happen,  Mr.  Stark,  that 
you  were  confined  at  the  Joliet  penitentiary 
for  a  term  of  years?" 

"Did  he  tell  you  this?"  snarled  Stark,  point- 
ing to  Gibbon. 

"No." 

"Who  then?" 

"A  customer  of  mine  from  Chicago.  He  saw 
you  at  the  hotel,  and  informed  Carl  last  even- 


Driven    from    Home.  199 

ing  of  your  character.  Carl,  of  course,  brought 
the  news  to  me.  It  was  in  consequence  of  this 
information  that  I  myself  removed  the  bonds 
from  the  box,  early  in  the  evening,  and  sub- 
stituted strips  of  paper.  Your  enterprise, 
therefore,  would  have  availed  you  little  even 
if  you  had  succeeded  in  getting  off  scot-free." 

"I  see  the  game  is  up,"  said  Stark,  throw- 
ing off  the  mask.  "It's  true  that  I  have  been 
in  the  Joliet  penitentiary.  It  was  there  that 
I  became  acquainted  with  your  bookkeeper," 
he  added,  maliciously.  "Let  him  deny  it  if 
he  dare." 

"I  shall  not  deny  it.  It  is  true,"  said  Gib- 
bon. "But  I  had  resolved  to  live  an  honest  life 
in  future,  and  would  have  done  so  if  this  man 
had  not  pressed  me  into  crime  by  his  threats." 

"I  believe  you,  Mr.  Gibbon,"  said  the  manu- 
facturer, gently,  "and  I  will  see  that  this  is 
counted  in  your  favor.  And  now,  gentlemen, 
I  think  there  is  no  occasion  for  further  delay." 

The  two  men  were  carried  to  the  lockup  and 
in  due  time  were  tried.  Stark  was  sentenced 
to  ten  years'  imprisonment,  Gibbon  to  five.  At 
the  end  of  two  years,  at  the  intercession  of  Mr. 
Jennings,  he  was  pardoned,  and  furnished  with 
money  enough  to  go  to  Australia,  where,  his 
past  character  unknown,  he  was  able  to  make 
an  honest  living,  and  gain  a  creditable  posi- 
tion. 


jjoo  Driven   from   Home, 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AFTEE  A  YEAE. 

Twelve  moLit^s  passed  without  any  special 
incident.  With  Carl  it  was  a  period  of  steady 
and  intelligent  labor  and  progress.  He  had 
excellent  mechanical  talent,  and  made  remark- 
able advancement.  He  was  not  content  with 
attention  to  his  own  work,  but  was  a  careful 
observer  of  the  work  of  others,  so  that  in  one 
year  he  learned  as  much  of  the  business  as 
most  boys  would  have  done  in  three. 

When  the  year  was  up,  Mr.  Jennings  de- 
tained him  after  supper. 

"Do  you  remember  what  anniversary  this 
is,  Carl?"  he  asked,  pleasantly. 

"Yes,  sir;  it  is  the  anniversary  of  my  going 
into  the  factory." 

"Exactly.  How  are  you  satisfied  -with  the 
year  and  its  work?" 

"I  have  been  contented  and  happy,  M>.  Jen- 
nings; and  I  feel  that  I  owe  my  happiness  %&& 
content  to  you." 

Mr.  Jesnings  looked  pleased. 


Driven   from    Home.  20 1 

"I  am  glad  you  say  so,"  he  said,  "but  it  is 
only  fair  to  add  that  your  own  industry  and 
intelligence  have  much  to  do  with  the  satis- 
factory results  of  the  year." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"The  superintendent  tells  me  that  outside 
of  your  own  work  you  have  a  general  knowl- 
edge of  the  business  which  would  make  you 
a  valuable  assistant  to  himself  in  case  he 
needed  one." 

Carl's  face  glowed  with  pleasure. 

"I  believe  in  being  thorough,"  he  said,  "and 
I  am  interested  in  every  department  of  the 
business." 

"Before  you  went  into  the  factory  you  had 
not  done  any  work." 

"No,  sir;  I  had  attended  school." 

"It  was  not  a  bad  preparation  for  business, 
but  in  some  cases  it  gives  a  boy  disinclination 
for  manual  labor." 

"Yes;  I  wouldn't  care  to  work  with  my 
hands  all  my  life." 

"I  don't  blame  yoa  for  that.  You  have  quali- 
fied yourself  for  something  better.  How  much 
do  I  pay  you?" 

"I  began  on  two  dollars  a  week  and  my 
board.  At  the  end  of  six  months  you  kindly 
advanced  me  to  four  dollars." 

"I  dare  say  you  have  found  it  none  too  much 
for  your  wants." 


202  Driven    from    Home. 

Carl  smiled. 

"I  have  saved  forty  dollars  out  of  it,"  he 
answered. 

Mr.  Jennings  looked  pleased. 

"You  have  done  admirably,"  he  said, 
warmly.  "Forty  dollars  is  not  a  large  sum, 
but  in  laying  it  by  you  have  formed  a  habit 
that  will  be  of  great  service  to  you  in  after 
years.  I  propose  to  raise  you  to  ten  dollars 
a  week." 

"But,  sir,  shall  I  earn  so  much?  You  are 
very  kind,  but  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  a  loser 
by  your  liberality." 

Mr.  Jennings  smiled. 

"You  are  partly  right,"  he  said.  "Your 
services  at  present  are  hardly  worth  the  sum 
I  have  agreed  to  pay,  that  is,  in  the  factory, 
but  I  shall  probably  impose  upon  you  other 
duties  of  an  important  nature  soon." 

"If  you  do,  sir,  I  will  endeavor  to  meet 
your  expectations." 

"How  would  you  like  to  take  a  journey, 
Carl?" 

"Very  much,  sir." 

"I  think  of  sending  you — to  Chicago." 

Carl,  who  had  thought  perhaps  of  a  fifty- 
mile  trip,  looked  amazed,  but  his  delight  was 
equal  to  his  surprise.  He  had  always  wished 
to  see  the  West,  though  Chicago  can  hardly 
be  called  a  Western  city  now,  since  between 


Driven    from    Home.  203 

it  and  the  Pacific  there  is  a  broad  belt  of  land 
two  thousand  miles  in  extent. 

"Do  you  think  I  am  competent?"  he  asked, 
modestly. 

"I  cannot  say  positively,  but  I  think  so," 
answered  Mr.  Jennings. 

"Then  I  shall  be  delighted  to  go.  Will  it 
be  very  soon?" 

"Yes,  very  soon.  I  shall  want  you  to  start 
next  Monday." 

"I  will  be  ready,  sir." 

"And  I  may  as  well  explain  what  are  to 
be  your  duties.  I  am,  as  you  know,  manu- 
facturing a  special  line  of  chairs  which  I  am 
desirous  of  introducing  to  the  trade.  I  shall 
give  you  the  names  of  men  in  my  line  in  Al- 
bany, Buffalo,  Cleveland  and  Chicago,  and 
it  will  be  your  duty  to  call  upon  them,  explain 
the  merits  of  the  chair,  and  solicit  orders. 
In  other  words,  you  will  be  a  traveling  sales- 
man or  drummer.  I  shall  pay  your  traveling 
expenses,  ten  dollars  a  week,  and,  if  your  or- 
ders exceed  a  certain  limit,  I  shall  give  you 
a  commission  on  the  surplus." 

"Suppose  I  don't  reach  that  limit?" 

"I  shall  at  all  events  feel  that  you  have 
done  your  best.  I  will  instruct  you  a  little 
in  your  duties  between  now  and  the  time  of 
your  departure.  I  should  nryself  like  to  go 
in  your  stead,  but  I  am  needed  here.      There 


204  Driven    from    Home. 

are,  of  course,  others  in  my  employ,  older  than 
yourself,  whom  I  might  send,  but  I  have  an 
idea  that  you  will  prove  to  be  a  good  sales- 
man." 

"I  will  try  to  be,  sir." 

On  Monday  morning  Carl  left  Milford, 
reached  New  York  in  two  hours  and  a  half, 
and,  in  accordance  with  the  directions  of  Mr. 
Jennings,  engaged  passage  and  a  stateroom  on 
one  of  the  palatial  night  lines  of  Hudson 
River  steamers  to  Albany.  The  boat  was  well 
filled  with  passengers,  ami  a  few  persons  were 
unable  to  procure  staterooms. 

Carl,  however,  applied  in  time,  and  obtained 
an  excellent  room.  He  deposited  his  gripsack 
therein,  and  then  took  a  seat  on  deck,  mean- 
ing to  enjoy  as  long  as  possible  the  delight- 
ful scenery  for  which  the  Hudson  is  celebrated. 
It  was  his  first  long  journey,  and  for  this  rea- 
son Carl  enjoyed  it  all  the  more.  He  could 
not  but  contrast  his  present  position  and  pros- 
pects with  those  of  p  year  ago,  when,  helpless 
and  penniless,  he  left  an  unhappy  home  to 
make  his  own  way. 

"What  a  delightful  evening!"  said  a  voice 
at  his  side. 

Turning,  Carl  saw  sitting  by  him  a  young 
man  of  about  thirty,  dressed  in  somewhat  pre- 
tentious style  and  wearing  eyeglasses  He  was 
tall  and  thin,  and  had  khtuIt  sidp  whiskers. 


Driven   from    Home.  205 

"Yes,  it  is  a  beautiful  evening,"  replied  Carl, 
politely. 

"And  the  scenery  is  quite  charming.  Have 
you  ever  been  all  the  way  up  the  river?" 

"No,  but  I  hope  some  day  to  take  a  day 
trip." 

"Just  so.  I  am  not  sure  but  I  prefer  the 
Rhine,  with  its  romantic  castles  and  vine- 
clad  hills." 

"Have  you  visited  Europe,  then?"  asked 
Carl. 

"Oh,  yes,  several  times.  I  have  a  passion 
for  traveling.  Our  family  is  wealthy,  and  I 
have  been  able  to  go  where  I  pleased." 

"That  must  be  very  pleasant." 

"It  is.  My  name  is  Stuyvesant — one  of  the 
old  Dutch  families." 

Carl  was  not  so  much  impressed,  perhaps,  as 
he  should  have  been  by  this  announcement, 
for  he  knew  very  little  of  fashionable  life  in 
New  York. 

"You  don't  look  like  a  Dutchman,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

"I  suppose  you  expected  a  figure  like  a  beer 
keg,"  rejoined  Stuyvesant,  laughing.  "Some 
of  my  forefathers  may  have  answered  that  de- 
scription, but  I  am  not  built  that  way.  Are 
you  traveling  far?" 

"I  may  go  as  far  as  Chicago." 

"Is  anyone  with  you?" 


206  Driven    from    Home. 

"No." 

"Perhaps  you  have  friends  in  Chicago?" 

"Not  tli at  I  am  aware  of.  I  am  traveling 
on  business." 

"Indeed;  you  are  rather  young  for  a  busi- 
ness man." 

"I  am  sixteen." 

"Well,  that  cannot  exactly  be  called  vener- 
able." 

"No,  I  suppose  not." 

"By  the  way,  did  you  succeed  in  getting  a 
stateroom?" 

"Yes,  I  have  a  very  good  one." 

"You're  in  luck,  on  my  word.  I  was  just 
too  late.  The  man  ahead  of  me  took  the  last 
room." 

"You  can  get  a  berth,  I  suppose." 

"Cut  that  is  so  common.  Really,  T  should 
not  know  how  to  travel  without  a  stateroom. 
Have  you  anyone  with  you?" 

"No." 

"If  you  will  take  me  in  I  will  pay  the  en- 
tire expense." 

Carl  hesitated.  He  preferred  to  be  alone, 
but  he  was  of  an  obliging  disposition,  and  he 
knew  that  there  were  two  berths  in  the  state- 
room. 

"If  it  will  be  an  accommodation,"  he  said, 
"I  will  let  you  occupy  the  room  with  me,  Mr. 
Stuyvesant," 


Driven    from    Home.  207 

"Will  you,  indeed !  I  shall  esteem  it  a  very 
great  favor.     Where  is  your  room?" 

"I  will  show  you." 

Carl  led  the  way  to  No.  17,  followed  by  his 
new  acquaintance.  Mr.  Stuyvesant  seemed 
very  much  pleased,  and  insisted  on  paying  for 
the  room  at  once.  Carl  accepted  half  the  reg- 
ular charges,  and  so  the  bargain  was  made. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  two  travelers  retired  to 
bed.  Carl  was  tired  and  went  to  sleep  at  once. 
He  slept  through  the  night.  When  he  awoke 
in  the  morning  the  boat  was  in  dock.  He 
heard  voices  in  the  cabin,  and  the  noise  of 
the  transfer  of  baggage  and  freight  to  the 
wharf. 

"I  have  overslept  myself,"  he  said,  and 
jumped  up,  hurriedly.  He  looked  into  the  up- 
per berth,  but  his  roommate  was  gone.  Some- 
thing else  was  gone,  too — his  valise,  and  a 
wallet  which  he  had  carried  in  the  pocket  of 
his  trousers. 


2.0%  Driven   from   Home. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    LOST    BANK    BOOK. 

Carl  was  not  long  in  concluding  that  he 
had  been  robbed  by  his  roommate.  It  was 
hard  to  believe  that  a  Stuyvesant- -a  repre- 
sentative of  one  of  the  old  Dutch  families  of 
New  Amsterdam — should  have  stooped  to  such 
a  discreditable  act.  Carl  was  sharp  enough, 
however,  to  doubt  the  genuineness  of  Mr.  Stuy- 
vesent's  claims  to  aristocratic  lineage.  Mean- 
while he  blamed  himself  for  being  so  easily 
duped  by  an  artful  adventurer. 

To  be  sure,  it  was  not  as  bad  as  it  might 
be.  His  pocketbook  only  contained  ten  dol- 
lars in  small  bills.  The  balance  of  his  money 
he  had  deposited  for  safe  keeping  in  the  in- 
side pocket  of  his  vest.  This  he  h?d  placed 
under  his  pillow,  and  so  it  had  escaped  the 
notice  of  the  thief. 

The  satchel  contained  a  supply  of  shirts, 
underclothing,  etc.,  and  he  was  sorry  to  lose 
it.  The  articles  were  not  expensive^  but  it 
would  cost  him  from  a  dozen  to  fifteen  dol- 
lars to  replace  them. 


Driven   from    Home.  209 

Carl  stepped  to  the  door  of  his  stateroom 
and  called  a  servant  who  was  standing  near. 

-How  long  have  we  been  at  the  pier?"  he 
asked. 

"About  twenty  minutes,  sir." 

"Did  you  see  my  roommate  go  out?" 

"A  tall  young  man  in  a  light  overcoat?" 

"Yes." 

"Yes,  sir.     I  saw  him." 

"Did  ,  -ou  notice  whether  he  carried  a  valise 
in  his  hand?" 

"A  gripsack?    Yes,  sir." 

"A  small  one?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"It  was  mine." 

"You  don't  say  so,  sir  I  And  such  a  respecta- 
ble-lookin'  gemman,  sir." 

"He  may  have  looked  respectable,  but  he  was 
a  thief  all  the  same." 

"You  don't  say?  Did  he  take  anything  else 
sir?"  J        s        ' 

"He  took  my  pocketbook." 

"Well,  well!  He  was  a  rascal,  sure!  But 
maybe  it  dropped  on  the  floor." 

Carl  turned  his  attention  to  the  carpet,  but 
saw  nothing  of  the  lost  pocketbook.  He  did 
find,  however,  a  small  book  in  a  brown  cover, 
which  Stuyvesant  had  probably  dropped.  Pick' 
lag  it  up,  he  discovered  that  it  was  a  bank 
book  on  the  Sixpenny  Savings  Bank  of  AJ- 


210  Driven    from    Home. 

bany,  standing  in  the  name  of  Eaehel  Nor« 
ris,  and  numbered  17,310. 

"This  is  stolen  property,  too,"  thought  Carl. 
"I  wonder  if  there  is  much  in  it." 

Opening  the  book  he  saw  that  there  were 
three  entries,  as  follows : 


1883. 

Jan.  23. 

Five  hundred  dollars. 

it 

June  10. 

Two  hundred  dollars. 

u 

Oct.  21. 

One  hundred  dollars. 

There  was  besides  this  interest  credited  to 
the  amount  of  seventy-five  dollars.  The  de- 
posits, therefore,  made  a  grand  total  of  $875. 

No  doubt  Mr.  Stuyvesant  had  stolen  this 
book,  but  had  not  as  yet  found  an  opportunity 
of  utilizing  it. 

"What's  dat?"  asked  the  colored  servant. 

"A  savings  bank  book.  My  roommate  must 
have  dropped  it.  It  appears  to  belong  to  a 
lady  named  Rachel  Norris.  I  wish  I  could 
get  it  to  her." 

"Is  she  an  Albany  lady,  sir?"' 

"I  don't  know." 

"You  might  look  in  the  directory." 

"So  I  will.     It  is  a  good  idea." 

"I  hope  the  gemman  didn't  take  all  your 
money,  sir." 

"No;  he  didn't  even  take  half  of  it.  I  only 
wish  I  had  been  awake  when  the  boat  got  to 
the  dock." 


Driven    from    Home.  211 

"I  would  have  called  you,  sir,  if  you  had 
asked  me." 

"I  am  not  much  used  to  traveling.  I  shall 
know  better  next  time  what  to  do." 

The  finding  of  the  bank  book  partially  con- 
soled Carl  for  the  loss  of  his  pocketbook  and 
gripsack.  He  was  glad  to  be  able  to  defeat 
Stuyvesant  in  one  of  his  nefarious  schemes, 
and  to  be  the  instrument  of  returning  Miss 
Norris  her  savings  bank  book. 

When  he  left  the  boat  he  walked  along  till 
he  reached  a  modest-looking  hotel,  where  he 
thought  the  charges  would  be  reasonable.  He 
entered,  and,  going  to  the  desk,  asked  if  he 
could  have  a  room. 

"Large  or  small?"  inquired  the  clerk. 

"Small." 

"No.  f>7.    Will  you  go  up  now?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Any  baggage?" 

"No;  I  had  it  stolen  on  the  boat." 

The  clerk  looked  a  little  suspicious. 

"We  must  require  pay  in  advance,  then,"  he 
said. 

"Certainly,"  answered  Carl,  pulling  out  a 
roll  of  bills.  I  suppose  you  make  special 
terms  to  commercial  travelers?" 

"Are  you  a  drummer?" 

"Yes.  I  represent  Henry  Jennings,  of  Mil- 
ford,  New  York." 


212  Driven   from   Home. 

"All  right,  sir.    Our  usual  rates  are  two  dol 
lars  a  day.     To  you  they  will  be  a  dollar  and 
a  quarter." 

"Very  well ;  I  will  pay  you  for  two  days.  Is 
breakfast  ready?'' 

"It  is  on  the  table,  sir." 

"Then  I  will  go  in  at  once.  I  will  go  to  my 
room  afterwards." 

In  spite  of  his  loss,  Carl  had  a  hearty  ap- 
petite, and  did  justice  to  the  comfortable 
breakfast  provided.  He  bought  a  morning 
paper,  and  ran  his  eye  over  the  advertising 
columns.  He  had  never  before  read  an  Al- 
bany paper,  and  wished  to  get  an  idea  of  the 
city  in  its  business  aspect.  It  occurred  to 
him  that  there  might  be  an  advertisement  of 
the  lost  bank  book.  But  no  such  notice  met 
his  eyes. 

He  went  up  to  his  room,  which  was  small 
and  plainly  furnished,  but  looked  comforta- 
ble. Going  down  again  to  the  office,  he  looked 
into  the  Albany  directory  to  see  if  he  could  find 
the  name  of  Rachel  Norris. 

There  was  a  Rebecca  Norris,  who  was  put 
down  as  a  dressmaker,  but  that  was  as  near 
as  he  came  to  Rachel  Norris. 

Then  he  set  himself  to  looking  o\er  the  other 
members  of  the  Norris  family.  Finally  he 
picked  out  Norris  &  Wade,  furnishing  goods 
and  decided  to  call  at  the  store  and  inquire 


Driven    from    Home.  213 

if  they  knew  any  lady  named  Rachel  Norris. 
The  prospect  of  gaining  information  in  this 
way  did  not  seem  very  promising,  but  no  other 
course  presented  itself,  and  Carl  determined 
to  follow  up  the  clew,  slight  as  it  was. 

Though  unacquainted  with  Albany  streets, 
he  had  little  difficulty  in  finding  the  store  of 
Norris  &  Wade.  It  was  an  establishment  of 
good  size,  well  supplied  with  attractive  goods. 
A  clerk  came  forward  to  wait  upon  Carl. 

"What  can  I  show  you?"  he  asked. 

"You  may  show  me  Mr.  Norris,  if  you 
please,"  responded  Carl,  with  a  smile. 

"He  is  in  the  office,"  said  the  clerk,  with  an 
answering  smile. 

Carl  entered  the  office  and  saw  Mr.  Norris, 
a  man  of  middle  age,  partially  bald,  with  a 
genial,  business-like  manner. 

"Well,  young  man?"  he  said,  looking  at 
Carl  inquiringly. 

"You  must  excuse  me  for  troubling  you, 
sir,"  said  Carl,  who  was  afraid  Mr.  Norris 
would  laugh  at  him,  "but  I  thought  you  might 
direct  me  to  Rachel  Norris." 

Mr.  Norris  looked  surprised. 

"What  do  you  want  of  Rachel  Norris?"  he 
asked,  abruptly. 

"I  have  a  little  business  with  her,"  answered 
Carl. 

"Of  what  nature?" 


214  Driven    from    Home. 

"Excuse  me,  but  I  don't  care  to  mention 
it  at  present." 

"Humph !  you  are  very  cautious  for  a  young 
man,  or  rather  boy." 

"Isn't  that  a  good  trait,  sir?" 

"Good,  but  unusual.    Are  you  a  schoolboy?" 

"No,  sir ;  I  am  a  drummer." 

Mr.  Norris  put  on  a  pair  of  glasses  and 
scrutinized  Carl  more  closely. 

"I  should  like  to  see — just  out  of  curiosity 
— the  man  that  you  travel  for,"  he  said. 

"I  will  ask  him  to  call  whenever  he  visits 
Albany.     There  is  his  card." 

Mr.  Norris  took  it. 

"Why,  bless  my  soul!"  he  exclaimed.  "It 
is  Henry  Jennings,  an  old  schoolmate  of 
mine." 

"And  a  good  business  man,  even  if  he  has 
sent  out  such  a  young  drummer." 

"I  should  say  so.  There  must  be  some- 
thing in  you,  or  he  wouldn't  have  trusted  you. 
How  is  Jennings?" 

"He  is  well,  sir — well  and  prosperous." 

"That  is  good  news.  Are  you  in  his  em- 
ploy?" 

"Yes,  sir.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  trav- 
eled for  him." 

"How  far  are  you  going?" 

"As  far  as  Chicago." 

"I  don't  see  what  you  can  have  to  do  with 


Driven    from    Home.  215 

Racnel  Norris.  However,  I  don't  mind  tell- 
ing you  that  she  is  my  aunt,  and — well,  upon 
my  soul!    Here  she  is  now." 

And  he  ran  hastily  to  greet  a  tall,  thin  lady, 
wearing  a  black  shawl,  who  at  that  moment 
entered  the  office. 


216  Driven    from   Home. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

AN   ECCENTRIC   WOMAN. 

Miss  Norms  dropped  into  a  chair  as  if  she 
were  fatigued. 

"Well,  Aunt  Kachel,  how  are  you  feeling 
this  morning?"  asked  her  nephew. 

"Out  of  sorts,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  that.  I  suppose  there 
is  reason  for  it." 

"Yes;  I've  been  robbed." 

"Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Norris.  "Lost  your 
purse?  I  wonder  more  ladies  are  not  robbed, 
carrying  their  money  as  carelessly  as  they  do." 

"That  isn't  it.  I  am  always  careful,  as  care- 
ful as  any  man." 

"Still  you  got  robbed." 

"Yes,  but  of  a  bank  book." 

Here  Carl  became  attentive.  It  was  clear 
that  he  would  not  have  to  look  any  farther 
for  the  owner  of  the  book  he  had  found  in  his 
stateroom. 

"What  kind  of  a  bank  book?"  inquired  Mr. 
Korria. 


Driven    from    Home.  217 

"I  had  nearly  a  thousand  dollars  deposited 
in  the  Sixpenny  Savings  Bank.  I  called  at 
the  bank  to  make  some  inquiries  about  inter- 
est, and  when  I  came  out  I  presume  some  ras- 
cal followed  me  and  stole  the  book " 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  took  it?" 
J   got  into  the  horse  cars,  near  the  bank; 
next  to  me  sat  a  young  man  in  a  light  over- 
coat.    There  was  no  one  on  the  other  side  of 
me.     I  think  he  must  have  taken  it." 

"That  was  Stuyvesant,"  said  Carl  to  him- 
self. 

"When  did  this  happen,  Aunt  Rachel?" 

"Three  days  since." 

"Why  didn't  you  do  something  about  it  be- 
fore?" 

"I  did.  I  advertised  a  reward  of  twenty- 
five  dollars  to  anyone  who  would  restore  it 
to  me." 

"There  was  no  occasion  for  that.  By  giv- 
ing notice  at  the  bank,  they  would  give  you 
a  new  book  after  a  time." 

"I  preferred  to  recover  the  old  one.  Be- 
sides, I  thought  I  would  like  to  know  what 
became  of  it." 

"I  can  tell  you,  Miss  Norris,"  said  Carl, 
who  thought  it  time  to  speak. 

Hitherto  Miss  Norris  had  not  seemed  aware 
of  CarFs  presence.  She  turned  abruptly  and 
surveyed  him  through  her  glasses. 


2i8  Driven    from    Home. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked. 

This  might  seem  rude,  but  it  was  only  Miss 
Rachel's  way. 

"My  name  is  Carl  Crawford." 

"Do  I  know  you?" 

"No,  Miss  Norris,  but  I  hope  you  will." 

"Humph !  that  depends.  You  say  you  know 
what  became  of  my  bank  book?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Norris." 

"Well?" 

"It  was  taken  by  the  young  man  who  sat 
next  to  you." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"He  robbed  me  last  night  on  the  way  from 
New  York  in  a  Hudson  River  steamboat." 

"That  doesn't  prove  that  he  robbed  me.  I 
was  robbed  here  in  this  city." 

"What  do  you  say  to  this?"  asked  Carl,  dis- 
playing the  bank  book. 

"Bless  me!  That  is  my  book.  Where  did 
you  get  it?" 

Carl  told  his  story  briefly,  how,  on  discov- 
ering that  he  had  been  robbed,  he  explored  the 
stateroom  and  found  the  bank  book. 

"Well,  well,  I  am  astonished !  And  how  did 
you  Know  Mr.  Norris  was  my  nephew?" 

"I  didn't  know.  I  didn't  know  anything 
about  him  or  you,  but  finding  his  name  in  the 
directory,  I  came  here  to  ask  if  he  knew  any 
such  person." 


Driven   from    Home.  219 

"You  are  a  smart  boy,  and  a  good,  honest 
one,"  said  Miss  Norris.  "You  have  earned  the 
reward,  and  shall  have  it." 

"I  don't  want  any  reward,  Miss  Norris,"  re- 
joined Carl.  "I  have  had  very  little  trouble 
in  finding  you." 

"That  is  of  no  consequence.  I  offered  the 
reward,  and  Rachel  Norris  is  a  woman  of  her 
word." 

She  thrust  her  hand  into  her  pocket,  and 
drew  out  a  wallet,  more  suitable  to  a  man's 
use.  Opening  this,  she  took  out  three  bills, 
two  tens  and  a  five,  and  extended  them  toward 
Carl. 

"I  don't  think  I  ought  to  take  this  money, 
Miss  Norris,"  said  Carl,  reluctantly. 

"Did  that  rascal  rob  you,  too?" 

"Yes." 

"Of  how  much?" 

"Ten  dollars  in  money  and  some  undercloth- 
ing." 

"Very  well!  This  money  will  go  toward 
making  up  your  loss.  You  are  not  rich,  I 
take  it?" 

"Not  yet." 

"I  am,  and  can  afford  to  give  you  this  money. 
There,  take  it," 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Norris." 

"I  want  to  ask  one  favor  of  you.  If  you 
ever  come  across  that  young  man  in  the  light 


j20  Driven    from    Home. 

overcoat,  have  him  arrested,  and  let  me  know." 

"I  will,  Miss  Norris.77 

"Do  you  live  in  Albany?17 

Carl  explained  that  he  was  traveling  on 
business,  and  should  leave  the  next  day  if  he 
could  get  through. 

"How  far  are  you  going?17 

"To  Chicago.'7 

"Can  you  attend  to  some  business  for  me 
there?'7  " 

"Yes,  if  it  won7t  take  too  long  a  time.77 

"Good!  Come  round  to  my  house  to  sup- 
per at  six  o'clock,  and  I  will  tell  you  about 
it.  Henry,  write  my  address  on  a  piece  of  pa- 
per, and  give  it  to  this  young  man.77 

Henry  Norris  smiled,  and  did  as  his  aunt 
requested. 

"You  have  considerable  confidence  in  this 
young  man?77  he  said. 

"I  have." 

"You  may  be  mistaken." 

"Rachel  Norris  is  not  often  mistaken." 

"I  will  accept  your  invitation  with  pleasure, 
Miss  Norris,77  said  Carl,  bowing  politely. 
"Now,  as  I  have  some  business  to  attend  to, 
[  will  bid  you  both  good-morning.77 

As  Carl  went  out,  Miss  Norris  said :  "Henry, 
that  is  a  remarkable  boy.'7 

"I  think  favorably  of  him  myself.  He  is 
in  the  employ  of  an  old  schoolmate  of  mine. 


Driven    from    Home.  22 1: 

Henry  Jennings,  of  Milford.  By  the  way, 
what  business  are  vou  going  to  put  into  his 
hands?" 

"A  young  man  who  has  a  shoe  store  on  State 
Street  lias  asked  me  for  a  loan  of  two  thou- 
sand dollars  to  extend  his  business.  His 
name  is  John  French,  and  his  mother  was  an 
old  schoolmate  of  mine,  though  some  years 
younger.  Now  I  know  nothing  of  him.  If 
he  is  a  sober,  steady,  industrious  young  man, 
I  may  comply  with  his  request.  This  boy  will 
investigate  and  report  to  me." 

"And  you  will  be  guided  by  his  report?" 

"Probably." 

"Aunt  Rachel,  you  are  certainly  very  ec- 
centric." 

"I  may  be,  but  I  am  not  often  deceived." 

"Well,  I  hope  you  won't  be  this  time.  The 
boy  seems  to  me  a  very  good  boy,  but  you  can't 
put  an  old  head  on  young  shoulders." 

"Some  boys  have  more  sense  than  men  twice 
their  age." 

"You  don't  mean  me,  T  hope,  Aunt  Rachel," 
said  Mr.  Norris,  smiling. 

"Indeed,  I  don't.  I  shall  not  flatter  you  by 
speaking  of  you  as  only  twice  this  boy's  age." 

"I  see,  Aunt  Rachel,  there  is  no  getting  the 
better  of  you." 

Meanwhile  Carl  was  making  business  calls. 
He  obtained  a  map  of  the  city,  and  located  the 


222  Driven    from    Home. 

different  firms  on  which  he  proposed  to  call. 
He  had  been  furnished  with  a  list  by  Mr.  Jen- 
nings. He  was  everywhere  pleasantb  received 
— in  some  places  with  an  expression  of  sur- 
prise at  his  youth — but  when  he  began  to  talk 
he  proved  to  be  so  well  informed  upon  the 
subject  of  his  call  that  any  prejudice  excited 
by  his  age  quickly  A'anished.  He  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  securing  several  unexpectedly 
large  orders  for  the  chair,  and  transmitting 
them  to  Mr.  Jennings  by  the  afternoon  mail. 

He  got  through  his  business  at  four  o'clock, 
and  rested  for  an  hour  or  more  at  his  hotel. 
Then  he  arranged  his  toilet,  and  set  out  for 
the  residence  of  Miss  Rachel  Norris. 

It  was  rather  a  prim-looking,  three-story 
house,  such  as  might  be  supposed  to  belong 
to  a  maiden  lady.  He  was  ushered  into  a  sit- 
ting-room on  the  second  floor,  where  Miss  Nor- 
ris soon  joined  him. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  my  young  friend," 
she  said,  cordially.     "You  are  in  time." 

"I  always  try  to  be,  Miss  Norris." 

"It  is  a  good  way  to  begin." 

Here  a  bell  rang. 

"Supper  is  ready,"  she  said.  "Follow  me 
downstairs." 

Carl  followed  the  old  lady  to  the  rear  room 
on  the  lower  floor.  A  small  table  was  set  in 
the  center  of  the  apartment. 


Driven    from    Home.  223 

"Take  a  seat  opposite  me,"  said  Miss  Nor- 
ris. 

There  were  two  other  chairs,  one  on  each 
side — Carl  wondered  for  whom  they  were  set. 
No  sooner  were  he  and  Miss  Norris  seated  than 
two  large  cats  approached  the  tahle,  and 
jumped  up,  one  into  each  chair.  Carl  looked 
to  see  them  ordered  away,  but  instead,  Miss 
Norris  nodded  pleasantly,  saying:  "That's 
right,  Jane  and  Molly,  3'ou  are  punctual  at 
meals." 

The  two  cats  eyed  their  mistress  gravely, 
and  began  to  purr  contentedly. 


224  Driven   from    Home. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

CARL  TAKES  SUPPER  WITH   MISS  NORRIS. 

"This  is  my  family,"  said  Miss  Norris, 
pointing  to  the  cats. 

"I  like  cats,"  said  Carl. 

"Do  you?"  returned  Miss  Norris,  looking 
pleased.  "Most  boys  tease  them.  Do  you  see 
poor  Molly's  ear?  That  wound  came  from  a 
stone  thrown  by  a  bad  boy." 

"Many  boys  are  cruel,"  said  Carl,  "but  I 
remember  that  my  mother  was  very  fond  of 
cats,  and  I  have  always  protected  them  from 
abuse." 

As  he  spoke  he  stroked  Molly,  who  purred 
an  acknowledgment  of  his  attention.  This 
completed  the  conquest  of  Miss  Norris,  who 
inwardly  decided  that  Carl  was  the  finest  boy 
she  had  ever  met.  After  she  had  served  Carl 
from  the  dishes  on  the  table,  she  poured  out 
two  saucers  of  milk  and  set  one  before  each  cat, 
who,  rising  upon  her  hind  legs,  placed  her 
forepaws  on  the  table,  and  gravely  partook 
of  the  refreshments  provided.  Jane  and  Molly 


Driven   from   Home.  225 

were  afterwards  regaled  with  cold  meat,  and 
then,  stretching  themselves  out  on  their  chairs, 
closed  their  eyes  in  placid  content. 

During  the  meal  Miss  Norris  questioned 
Carl  closely  as  to  his  home  experiences.  Hav- 
ing no  reason  for  concealment  Carl  frankly 
related  his  troubles  with  his  stepmother,  elicit- 
ing expressions  of  sympathy  and  approval 
from  his  hostess. 

"Your  stepmother  must  be  an  ugly  crea- 
ture?" she  said. 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  prejudiced  against  her," 
said  Carl,  "but  that  is  my  opinion." 

<fYour  father  must  be  very  weak  to  be  in- 
fluenced against  his  own  son  by  such  a 
woman." 

Carl  winced  a  little  at  this  outspoken  crit- 
icism, for  he  was  attached  to  his  father  in 
spite  of  his  unjust  treatment. 

"My  father  is  an  invalid,"  he  said,  apologet- 
ically,  "and  I  think  he  yielded  for  the  sake  of 
peace." 

"All  the  same,  he  ought  not  to  do  it,"  said 
Miss  Norris.  "Do  you  ever  expect  to  live  at 
home  again?" 

"Not  while  my  stepmother  is  there,"  an- 
swered Carl.  "But  I  don't  know  that  I  should 
care  to  do  so  under  any  circumstances,  as  I 
am  now  receiving  a  business  draining.  I 
should  like  to  make  a  little  visit  home,"  he 


226  Driven    from    Home. 

added,  thoughtfully,  "and  perhaps  I  may  do 
so  after  I  return  from  Chicago.  I  shall  have 
no  favors  to  ask,  and  shall  feel  independent." 

"If  you  ever  need  a  home,"  said  Miss  Nor- 
ris,  abruptly,  "come  here.  You  will  he  wel- 
come." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Carl,  grate- 
fully. "It  is  all  the  more  kind  in  you  since 
you  have  known  me  so  short  a  time." 

"I  have  known  you  long  enough  to  judge 
of  you,"  said  the  maiden  lady.  "And  now  if 
you  won't  have  anything  more  we  will  go  into 
the  next  room  and  talk  business." 

Carl  followed  her  into  the  adjoining  room, 
and  Miss  Norris  at  once  plunged  into  the  sub- 
ject. She  handed  him  a  business  card  bear- 
ing this  inscription : 

JOHN  FRENCH, 

Boots,  Shoes  and  Rubber  Goods, 
42a  State  Street, 

Chicago. 

"This  young  man  wants  me  to  lend  him  two 
thousand  dollars  to  extend  his  business,"  she 
said.  "He  is  the  son  of  an  old  school  friend, 
and  I  am  willing  to  oblige  him  if  he  is  a  sober, 
steady  and  economical  business  man.  I  want 
you  to  find  out  whether  this  is  the  case  and 
report  to  me." 

"Won't  that  be  difficult?"  asked  CarL 


Driven    from    Home.  227 

"Are  you  afraid  to  undertake  anything  that 
is  difficult?1' 

"No,"  answered  Carl,  with  a  smile.  "I  was 
only  afraid  I  might  not  do  the  work  satisfac- 
torily." 

"I  shall  give  you  no  instructions,"  said  Miss 
Norris.  "I  shall  trust  to  your  good  judgment. 
I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  Mr.  French,  which 
you  can  use  or  not,  as  you  think  wise.  Of 
course,  I  shall  see  that  you  are  paid  for  your 
trouble." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Carl.  "I  hope  my  serv- 
ices may  be  worth  compensation." 

"I  don't  know  how  you  are  situated  as  to 
money,  but  I  can  give  you  some  in  advance," 
and  the  old  lady  opened  her  pocketbook. 

"No,  thank  you,  Miss  Norris;  I  shall  not 
need  it,  I  might  have  been  short  if  you  had 
not  kindly  paid  me  a  reward  for  a  slight  serv- 
ice." 

"Slight,  indeed!  If  you  had  lost  a  bank 
book  like  mine  you  would  be  glad  to  get  it 
back  at  such  a  price.  If  you  will  catch  the 
rascal  who  stole  it  I  will  gladly  pay  you  as 
much  more." 

"I  wish  I  might  for  my  own  sake,  but  I  am 
afraid  it  would  be  too  late  to  recover  my  money 
and  clothing." 

At  an  early  hour  Carl  left  the  house,  prom- 
ising to  write  to  Miss  Norris  from  Chicago. 


2a3  Driven   from   Home. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A     STARTLING     DISCOVERY. 

"Well,"  thought  Carl,  as  he  left  the  house 
where  he  had  been  so  hospitably  entertained, 
"I  shall  not  lack  for  business.  Miss  Norris 
seems  to  have  a  great  deal  of  confidence  in 
me,  considering  that  I  am  a  stranger.  I  will 
take  care  that  she  does  not  repent  it." 

"Can  you  give  a  poor  man  enough  money  to 
buy  a  cheap  meal?"  asked  a  plaintive  voice. 

Carl  scanned  the  applicant  for  charity 
closely.  He  was  a  man  of  medium  size,  with 
a  pair  of  small  eyes,  and  a  turnup  nose.  His 
dress  was  extremely  shabby,  and  he  had  the 
appearance  of  one  who  was  on  bad  terms  with 
fortune.  There  was  nothing  striking  about 
his  appearance,  yet  Carl  regarded  him  with 
surprise  and  wonde^.  Despite  the  difference 
in  age,  he  bore  a  remarkable  resemblance  to 
his  stepbrother,  Peter  Cook. 

"I  haven't  eaten  anything  for  twenty-four 
hours,"  continued  the  tramp,  as  he  may  prop- 
erly be  called.  "It's  a  hard  world  to  such  as 
me,  boy." 


Driven   from    Home.  229 

"I  shoald  judge  so  from  your  looks,"  an- 
swered Carl. 

"Indeed  you  are  right.  I  was  born  to  ill 
luck." 

Carl  had  some  doubts  about  this.  Those  who 
represent  themselves  as  born  to  ill  luck  can 
usually  trace  the  ill  luck  to  errors  or  short- 
comings of  their  own.  There  are  doubtless 
inequalities  of  fortune,  but  not  as  great  as 
many  like  to  represent.  Of  two  boys  who 
start  alike  one  may  succeed,  and  the  other  fail, 
but  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  the  success  or 
failure  may  be  traced  to  a  difference  in  the 
qualities  of  the  boys. 

"Here  is  a  quarter  if  that  will  do  you  any 
good,"  said  Carl. 

The  man  clutched  at  it  with  avidity. 

"Thank  you.  This  will  buy  me  a  cup  of 
coffee  and  a  plate  of  meat,  and  will  put  new 
lif    into  me." 

He  was  about  to  hurry  away,  but  Carl  felt 
like  questioning  him  further.  The  extraor- 
dinary resemblance  between  this  man  and  his 
stepbrother  led  him  to  think  it  possible  that 
there  might  be  a  relationship  between  them. 
Of  his  stepmother's  family  he  knew  little  or 
nothing.  His  father  had  married  her  on  short 
acquaintance,  and  ehe  was  very  reticent  about 
her  former  life.  His  father  was  indolent,  and 
had  not  troubled  himself  to  make  inquiries. 


230  Driven    from    Home. 

He  took  "her  on  her  own  representation  as  the 
widow  of  a  merchant  who  had  failed  in  busi- 
ness. 

On  the  impulse  of  the  moment — an  impulse 
which  he  could  not  explain — Carl  asked 
abruptly — "Is  your  name  Cook  ?" 

A  look  of  surprise,  almost  of  stupefaction, 
appeared  on  the  man's  face. 

"Who  told  you  my  name?"  he  asked. 

"Then  your  name  is  Cook?" 

"What  is  your  object  in  asking?"  said  the 
man,  suspiciously. 

"I  mean  you  no  harm,"  returned  Carl,  "but 
I  have  reasons  for  asking." 

"Did  you  ever  see  me  before?"  asked  the 
man. 

"No." 

"Then  what  makes  you  think  my  name  is 
Cook?    It  is  not  written  on  my  face,  is  it?" 

"No." 

"Then  how " 

Carl  interrupted  him. 

"I  know  a  boy  named  Peter  Cook,"  he  said, 
"who  resembles  you  very  strongly." 

"You  know  Peter  Cook— little  Peter?"  ex- 
claimed the  tramp. 

"Yes.     Is  he  a  relation  of  yours?" 

"I  should  think  so!v  responded  Cook,  em- 
phatically. "Tic  is  my  own  son — that  -is,  if  he 
is  a  boy  of  about  your  age." 


Driven    from    Home.  231' 

"Yes." 

"Where  is  he?     Is  his  mother  alive ?" 

"Your  wife!"  exclaimed  Carl,  overwhelmed 
ttt  the  thought. 

"She  was  my  wife!"  said  Cook,  "but  while 
I  was  in  California,  some  years  since,  she  took 
possession  of  my  small  property,  procured  a 
divorce  through  an  unprincipled  lawyer,  and 
I  returned  to  find  myself  without  wife,  child 
or  money.     Wasn't  that  a  mean  trick?" 

"I  think  it  was." 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  she  is?"  asked  Cook, 
eagerly. 

"Yes,  I  can." 

"Where  can  I  find  my  wife?"  asked  Cook, 
with  much  eagerness. 

Carl  hesitated.  He  did  not  like  his  step- 
mother; he  felt  that  she  had  treated  him 
meanly,  but  he  was  not  prepared  to  reveal  her 
present  residence  till  he  knew  what  course 
Cook  intended  to  pursue. 

"She  is  married  again,"  he  said,  watching 
Cook  to  see  what  effect  this  announcement 
might  have  upon  him. 

"I  have  no  objection,  T  am  sure,"  responded 
Cook,  indifferently.     "Did  she  marry  well?" 

"She  married  a  man  in  good  circumstances." 

"She  would  take  good  care  of  that." 

"Then  you  don't  intend  to  reclaim  her?" 

"How    can     I?     She    obtained   a    divorce, 


232  Driven   from    Home. 

though  by  false  representations.  I  am  glad 
to  be  rid  of  her,  but  I  want  her  to  restore  the 
two  thousand  dollars  of  which  she  robbed  me. 
I  left  my  property  in  her  hands,  but  when 
she  ceased  to  be  my  wife  she  had  no  right  to 
take  possession  of  it.  I  ought  not  to  be  sur- 
prised, however.  It  wasn't  the  first  theft  she 
had  committed." 

"Can  this  be  true?"  asked  Carl,  excited. 

"Yes,  I  married  her  without  knowing  much 
of  her  antecedents.  Two  years  after  marriage 
I  ascertained  that  she  had  served  a  year's  term 
of  imprisonment  for  a  theft  of  jewelry  from 
a  lady  with  whom  she  was  living  as  house- 
keeper." 

"Are  you  sure  of  this?" 

"Certainly.  She  was  recognized  by  a  friend 
of  mine,  who  had  been  an  official  at  the  prison. 
When  taxed  with  it  by  me  she  admitted  it,  but 
claimed  that  she  was  innocent.  I  succeeded 
in  finding  a  narrative  of  the  trial  in  an  old 
file  of  papers,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  was  justly  convicted." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"I  proposed  separation,  but  she  begged  me 
to  keep  the  thing  secret,  and  let  ourselves  re- 
main the  same  as  before.  I  agreed  out  of  con- 
sideration for  her,  but  had  occasion  to  regret 
it.  My  business  becoming  slack,  I  deeided  to 
go  to  California  in  the  hope  of  acquiring  a 


Driven   from    Home,  233 

competence.  I  was  not  fortunate  there,  and 
was  barely  able,  after  a  year,  to  get  home.  I 
found  that  my  wife  had  procured  a  divorce, 
and  appropriated  the  little  money  I  had  left. 
Where  she  had  gone,  or  where  she  had  con- 
veyed our  son,  I  could  not  learn.  You  say 
you  know  where  she  is." 

"I  do." 

"Will  you  tell  me?" 

"Mr.  Cook,"  said  Carl,  after  a  pause  for  re- 
flection, "I  will  tell  you,  but  not  just  at  pres- 
ent. I  am  on  my  way  to  Chicago  on  business. 
On  my  return  I  will  stop  here,  and  take  you 
with  me  to  the  present  home  of  your  former 
wife.  You  will  understand  my  interest  in  the 
matter  when  I  tell  you  that  she  is  now  mar- 
ried to  a  relative  of  my  own." 

"I  pity  him  whoever  he  is,"  said  Cook. 

"Yes,  I  think  he  is  to  be  pitied,"  said  Carl, 
gravely;  "but  the  revelation  you  will  be  able 
to  make  will  enable  him  to  insist  upon  a  sep- 
aration." 

"The  best  thing  he  can  do!  How  long  be- 
fore you  return  to  Albany?" 

"A  week  or  ten  days." 

"I  don't  know  how  I  am  to  live  in  the  mean- 
time," said  Cook,  anxiously.  "I  am  penni- 
less, but  for  the  money  you  have  just  given 
me," 

"At  what  price  can  you  obtain  board?" 


234  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  know  of  a  decent  bouse  where  I  can  ob- 
tain board  and  a  small  room  for  five  dollars 
a  week." 

"Here  are  twelve  dollars.  This  will  pay  for 
two  weeks'  board,  and  give  you  a  small  sum 
besides.     What  is  the  address?" 

Cook  mentioned  a  number  on  a  street  by 
the  river. 

Carl  took  it  down  in  a  notebook  with  which 
he  had  provided  himself. 

"When  I  return  to  Albany,"  he  said,  "I  will 
call  there  at  once." 

"You  won't  forget  me?" 

"No;  I  shall  be  even  more  anxious  to  meet 
you  than  you  will  be  to  meet  me.  The  one 
to  whom  your  former  wife  is  married  is  very 
near  and  dear  to  me,  and  I  cannot  bear  to 
think  that  he  has  been  so  wronged  and  im- 
posed upon !" 

"Very  well,  sir!  I  shall  wait  for  you  with 
confidence.  If  I  can  get  back  from  my  for- 
mer wife  the  money  she  robbed  me  of,  I  can 
get  on  my  feet  again,  and  take  a  respectable 
position  in  society.  It  is  very  hard  for  a  man 
dressed  as  I  am  to  obtain  any  employment." 

Looking  at  his  shabby  and  ragged  suit,  Carl 
could  readily  believe  this  statement.  If  he 
had  wished  t©  employ  anyone  he  would  hardly 
have  been  tempted  to  engage  a  man  so  dis- 
creditable in  appearance.     "Be  of  good  cour* 


Driven    from    Home.  235 

age,  Mr.  Cook,"  he  said,  kindly.  "If  your 
story  is  correct,  and  I  believe  it  is,  there  are 
better  days  in  store  for  you/' 

"Thank  you  for  those  words,"  said  Cook, 
earnestly.     "They  give  me  new  hope." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

FROM     ALBANY     TO     NIAGARA. 

Carl  took  the  afternoon  train  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  for  Buffalo.  His  thoughts  were 
busy  with  the  startling  discovery  he  had  made 
in  regard  to  his  stepmother.  Though  he  had 
never  liked  her,  he  had  been  far  from  imagin- 
ing that  she  was  under  the  ban  of  the  law. 
It  made  him  angry  to  think  that  his  father  had 
been  drawn  into  a  marriage  with  such  a 
woman — that  the  place  of  his  idolized  mother 
had  been  taken  by  one  who  had  served  a  term 
at  Sing  Sing. 

Did  Peter  know  of  his  mother's  past  dis- 
grace? he  asked  himself.  Probably  not,  for  it 
had  come  before  his  birth.  He  only  wondered 
that  the  secret  had  never  got  out  before.  There 
must  be  many  persons  who  had  known  her  as 
a  prisoner,  and  could  identify  her  now.  She 
had  certainly  been  fortunate  with  the  fear 
of  discovery  always  haunting  her.     Carl  could 


36  Driven   from    Home. 

not  understand  how  she  could  carry  her  head 
so  high,  and  attempt  to  tyrannize  o\er  his  fa- 
ther and  himself. 

What  the  result  would  be  when  Dr.  Craw- 
ford learned  the  antecedents  of  the  woman 
whom  he  called  wife  Carl  did  not  for  a  mo- 
ment doubt.  His  father  was  a  man  of  very 
strict  ideas  on  the  subject  of  honor,  and  good 
repute,  and  the  discovery  would  lead  him  to 
turn  from  Mrs.  Crawford  in  abhorrence.  More- 
over, he  was  strongly  opposed  to  divorce,  and 
Carl  had  heard  him  argue  that  a  divorced  per- 
son should  not  be  permitted  to  remarry.  Yet 
in  ignorance  he  had  married  a  divorced 
woman,  who  had  been  convicted  of  theft,  and 
served  a  term  of  imprisonment.  The  discov- 
ery would  be  a  great  shock  to  him,  and  it 
would  lead  to  a  separation  and  restore  the 
cordial  relations  between  himself  and  his  son. 

Not  long  after  his  settlement  in  Milford, 
Carl  had  written  as  follows  to  his  father: 

"Dear  Father: — Though  I  felt  obliged  to 
leave  home  for  reasons  which  we  both  under- 
stand, I  am  sure  that  you  will  feel  interested 
to  know  how  I  am  getting  along.  I  did  not 
realize  till  I  had  started  out  how  difficult  it  is 
for  a  boy,  brought  up  like  myself,  to  support 
himself  when  thrown  upon  his  own  exertions, 
A  newsboy  can  generally  earn  enough  money 


Driven    from    Home.  237 

to  maintain  himself  in  the  style  to  which  he 
is  accustomed,  but  I  have  had  a  comfortable 
and  even  luxurious  home,  and  could  hardly 
bring  myself  to  live  in  a  tenement  house,  or 
a  very  cheap  boarding  place.  Yet  I  would 
rather  do  either  than  stay  in  a  home  made 
unpleasant  by  the  persistent  hostility  of  one 
member. 

"I  will  not  take  up  your  time  by  relating 
the  incidents  of  the  first  two  days  after  I  left 
home.  I  came  near  getting  into  serious  trou- 
ble through  no  fault  of  my  own,  but  happily 
escaped.  When  I  was  nearly  penniless  I  fell 
in  with  a  prosperous  manufacturer  of  furni- 
ture who  has  taken  me  into  his  employment. 
He  gives  me  a  home  in  his  own  house,  and  pays 
me  two  dollars  a  week  besides.  This  is  enough 
to  support  me  economically,  and  I  shall  after 
a  while  receive  better  pay. 

"I  am  not  in  the  office,  but  in  the  factory, 
and  am  learning  the  business  practically,  start- 
ing in  at  the  bottom.  I  think  I  have  a  taste  for 
it,  and  the  superintendent  tells  me  I  am  mak- 
ing remarkable  progress.  The  time  was  when 
I  would  have  hesitated  to  become  a  working 
boy,  but  I  have  quite  got  over  such  foolishness. 
Mr.  Jennings,  my  employer,  who  is  considered 
a  rich  man,  began  as  I  did,  and  I  hope  some 
day  to  occupy  a  position  similar  to  his. 

"]  trust  you  are  quite  well  and  happy,  dear 


23» 


Driven    from    Home. 


father.  My  only  regret  is,  that  I  cannot  see 
yon  occasionally.  AYhile  nry  stepmother  and 
lVter  form  part  of  your  family,  I  feel  that  I 
can  never  live  at  home.  They  both  dislike  me, 
and  I  am  afraid  I  return  the  feeling.  If  you 
are  sick  or  need  me,  do  not  fail  to  send  for  me, 
for  I  can  never  forget  that  3tou  are  my  father, 
as  I  am  your  affectionate  son,  Carl." 

This  letter  was  handed  to  Dr.  Crawford  at 
the  breakfast  table.  He  colored  and  looked 
agitated  when  he  opened  the  envelope,  and 
Mrs.  Crawford,  who  had  a  large  share  of  cu- 
riosity, did  not  fail  to  notice  this. 

"From  whom  is  your  letter,  my  dear?"  she 
asked,  in  the  soft  tone  which  was  habitual  with 
her  when  she  addressed  her  husband 

"The  handwriting  is  Carl's,"  answered  Dr. 
Crawford,  already  devouring  the  letter  eagerly. 

"Oh!"  she  answered,  in  a  chilly  tone.  "I 
have  been  expecting  you  would  hear  from  him. 
How  much  money  does  he  send  for?" 

"I  have  not  finished  the  letter."  Dr.  Craw- 
ford continued  reading.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished he  laid  it  down  beside  his  plate. 

"Well?"  said  his  wife,  interrogatively. 
"What  does  he  have  to  say?  Does  he  ask  leave 
to  come  home?" 

"No;  he  is  quite  content  where  he  is." 

"And  where  is  that?" 


Driven    from    Home.  239 

"At  Milford." 

"That  is  not  far  away?" 

"No;  not  more  than  sixty  miles." 

"Does  he  ask  for  money?" 

"No ;  he  is  employed." 

"Where?" 

"In  a  furniture  factory." 

"Oh,  a  factory  boy." 

"Yes;  he  is  learning  the  business." 

"He  doesn't  seem  to  be  very  ambitious," 
sneered  Mrs.  Crawford. 

"On  the  contrary,  he  is  looking  forward  to 
being  in  business  for  himself  some  day." 

"On  your  money — I  understand." 

"Really,  Mrs.  Crawford,  you  do  the  boy  in- 
justice. He  hints  nothing  of  the  kind.  He 
evidently  means  to  rnise  himself  gradually  as 
his  employer  did  before  him.  By  the  way,  he 
has  a  home  in  his  employer's  family.  I  think 
Mr.  Jennings  must  have  taken  a  fancy  to 
Carl." 

"I  hope  he  will  find  him  more  agreeable  than 
1  did,"  said  Mrs.  Crawford,  sharply. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  always  treated 
Carl  considerately,  my  dear?" 

"I  didn't  flatter  or  fondle  him,  if  that  is 
what  you  mean.  I  treated  him  as  well  as  he 
could  expect." 

"Did  you  treat  him  as  well  as  Peter,  for  ex- 
ample?" 


240  Driven    from    Home. 

"No.  There  is  a  great  difference  between  the 
two  boys.  Peter  is  always  respectful  and  oblig- 
ing, and  doesn't  set  up  his  will  against  mine. 
He  never  gives  me  a  moment's  uneasiness." 

"I  hope  you  will  continue  to  find  him  a  com- 
fort, my  dear,"  said  Dr.  Crawford,  meekly. 

He  looked  across  the  table  at  the  flat,  ex- 
pressionless face  of  his  stepson,  and  he  blamed 
himself  because  he  could  not  entertain  a 
warmer  regard  for  Peter.  Somehow  he  had 
a  slight  feeling  of  antipathy,  which  he  tried 
to  overcome. 

"No  doubt  he  is  a  good  boy,  since  his  mother 
says  so,"  reflected  the  doctor,  "but  I  don't  ap- 
preciate him.  I  will  take  care,  however,  that 
neither  he  nor  his  mother  sees  this." 

When  Peter  heard  his  mother's  encomium 
upon  him,  he  laughed  in  his  sleeve. 

"I'll  remind  ma  of  that  when  she  scolds  me," 
he  said  to  himself.  "I'm  glad  Carl  isn't  com- 
ing back.  He  was  always  interferin'  with  me. 
Now,  if  ma  and  I  play  our  cards  right  we'll 
get  all  his  father's  money.  Ma  thinks  he  won't 
live  long,  I  heard  her  say  so  the  other  day. 
Won't  it  be  jolly  for  ma  and  me  to  come  into 
a  fortune,  and  live  just  as  we  please!  I  hope 
ma  will  go  to  New  York.  It's  stupid  here,  but 
I  s'pose  we'll  have  to  stay  for  the  present." 

"Is  Carl's  letter  private?"  asked  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford, after  a  pause. 


Driven   from    Home.  2411 

"I — I  think  he  would  rather  I  didn't  show 
it,"  returned  her  husband,  remembering  the 
allusion  made  by  Carl  to  his  stepmother. 

"Oh,  well,  I  am  not  curious,"  said  Mrs. 
Crawford,  tossing  her  head. 

None  the  less,  however,  she  resolved  to  see 
and  read  the  letter,  if  she  could  get  hold  of  it 
without  her  husband  s  knowledge.  He  was 
so  careless  that  she  did  not  doubt  soon  to  find 
it  laid  down  somewhere.  In  this  she  proved 
correct.  Before  the  day  was  over,  she  found 
Carl's  letter  in  her  husband's  desk.  She 
opened  and  read  it  eagerly  with  a  running  fire 
of  comment. 

"  'Reasons  which  \ve  both  understand,'  "  she 
repeated,  scornfully.  "That  is  a  covert  attack 
upon  me.  Of  course,  I  ought  to  expect  that. 
So  he  had  a  hard  time.  Well,  it  served  him 
right  for  conducting  himself  as  he  did.  Ah, 
here  is  another  hit  at  me — 'Yet  I  would  rather 
do  either  than  live  in  a  home  made  unpleas- 
ant by  the  persistent  hostility  of  one  member.' 
He  is  trying  to  set  his  father  against  me.  Well, 
he  won't  succeed.  I  can  twist  Dr.  Paul  Craw- 
ford round  my  finger,  luckily,  and  neither 
his  son  nor  anyone  else  can  diminish  my  in- 
fluence over  him." 

She  read  on  for  some  time  till  she  reached 
this  passage:  "While  my  stepmother  and 
Peter  form  a  part  of  your  family  I  can  never 


242  Driven    from    Home. 

live  at  home.  They  both  dislike  me,  and  I  am 
afraid  I  return  the  feeling."  "Thanks  for 
the  information/'  she  muttered.  "I  knew  it 
before.  This  letter  doesn't  make  m<  feel  any 
more  friendly  to  you,  Carl  Crawford.  I  see 
that  you  are  trying  to  ingratiate  yourself  with 
your  father,  and  prejadice  him  against  me  and 
my  poor  Peter,  but  I  think  I  can  defeat  your 
kind  intentions." 

She  folded  up  the  letter,  and  replaced  it  in 
her  husband's  desk. 

"I  wonder  if  my  husband  will  answer  Carl's 
artful  epistle,"  she  said  to  herself.  "He  can 
if  he  pleases.  He  is  weak  as  water,  and  I  will 
see  that  he  goes  no  farther  than  words." 

Dr.  Crawford  did  answer  Carl's  letter.  This 
is  his  reply: 

"Dear  Carl: — I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you 
are  comfortably  situated.  I  regret  that  you 
were  so  headstrong  and  unreasonable.  It 
seems  to  me  that  you  might,  with  a  little  ef- 
fort, have  got  on  with  your  stepmother.  You 
could  hardly  expect  her  to  treat  you  in  the 
same  way  as  her  own  son.  He  seems  to  be 
a  good  boy,  but  I  own  that  I  have  never  been 
able  to  become  attached  to  him." 

Carl  read  this  part  of  the  letter  with  satis- 
faction. He  knew  how  mean  and  contempti- 
ble Peter  was,  and  it  would  have  gone  to  his 


Driven    from    Home.  243 

heart  to  think  that  his  father  had  transferred 
his  affection  to  the  boy  he  had  so  much  rea- 
son to  dislike. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  pleased  with  your  pros- 
pects. I  think  I  could  have  done  better  for 
you  had  your  relations  with  your  stepmother 
been  such  as  to  make  it  pleasant  for  you  to 
remain  at  home.  You  are  right  in  thinking 
that  I  am  interested  in  your  welfare.  I  hope, 
my  dear  Carl,  you  will  become  a  happy  and 
prosperous  man.  I  do  not  forget  that  you  are 
my  son,  and  I  am  still  your  affectionate  father, 

"Paul  Crawford." 

Carl  was  glad  to  receive  this  letter.  It 
showed  him  that  his  stepmother  had  not  yet 
succeeded  in  alienating  from  him  his  father's 
affection. 

But  we  must  return  to  the  point  where  we 
left  Carl  on  his  journey  to  Buffalo.  He  en- 
joyed his  trip  over  the  Central  road  during  the 
hours  of  daylight.  He  determined  on  his  re- 
turn to  make  an  all-day  trip  so  that  he  might 
enjoy  the  scenery  through  which  he  now  rode 
in  the  darkness. 

At  Buffalo  he  had  no  other  business  except 
that  of  Mr.  Jennings,  and  immediately  after 
breakfast  he  began  to  make  a  tour  of  the  fur- 
niture establishments.  He  met  with  excellent 
success,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  sending 


244  Driven   from    Home. 

home  some  large  orders.  In  the  evening  he 
took  train  for  Niagara,  wishing  to  see  the  falls 
in  the  early  morning,  and  resume  his  journey 
in  the  afternoon. 

He  registered  at  the  International  Hotel  on 
the  American  side.  It  was  too  late  to  do  more 
than  take  an  evening  walk,  and  see  the  falls 
gleaming  like  silver  through  the  darkness. 

"I  will  go  to  bed  early,"  thought  Carl,  "and 
get  up  at  six  o'clock." 

He  did  go  to  bed  early,  but  he  was  more  fa- 
tigued than  he  supposed,  and  slept  longer  than 
he  anticipated.  It  was  eight  o'clock  before  he 
came  downstairs.  Before  going  in  to  break- 
fast, he  took  a  turn  on  the  piazzas.  Here 
he  fell  in  with  a  sociable  gentleman,  much  ad- 
dicted to  gossip. 

"Good-morning!"  he  said.  "Have  you  seen 
the  falls  yet?" 

"I  caught  a  glimpse  of  them  last  evening. 
I  am  going  to  visit  them  after  breakfast." 

"There  are  a  good  many-  people  staying  here 
just  now — some  quite  noted  persons,  too." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes,  what  do  you  say  to  an  English  lord?" 
and  Carl's  new  friend  nodded  with  am  impor- 
tant air,  as  if  it  reflected  great  credit  on  tbt 
hotel  to  have  so  important  a  guest. 

"Does  he  look  different  from  anyone  else?" 
asked  Carl,  smiling. 


Driven    from    Home.  245 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  isn't  much  to 
look  at,"  said  the  other.  "The  gentleman  who 
is  with  him  looks  more  stylish.  I  thought 
he  was  the  lord  at  first,  but  I  afterwards 
learned  that  he  was  an  American  named  Stuy- 
vesant." 

Carl  started  at  the  familiar  name. 

"Is  he  tall  and  slender,  with  side  whiskers, 
and  does  he  wear  eyeglasses?"  he  asked,  ea- 
gerly. 

"Yes;  you  know  him  then?"  said  the  other, 
in  surprise. 

"Yes,"  answered  Carl,  with  a  smile,  "I  am 
slightly  acquainted  with  him.  I  am  very  anx- 
ious to  meet  him  again." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

CARL  MAKES  THE  ACQUAINTANCE  OF  AN  ENGLISH 
LORD. 

"There  they  are  now,"  said  the  stranger, 
suddenly  pointing  out  two  persons  walking 
slowly  along  the  piazza.  "The  small  man,  in 
the  rough  suit,  and  mutton-chop  whiskers,  is 
Lord  Bedford." 

Carl  eyed  the  British  nobleman  with  some 
curiosity.     Evidently   Lord   Bedford  was   no 


246  Driven    from    Home. 

dude.  His  suit  was  of  rough  cloth  and  ill- 
fitting.  He  was  barely  five  feet  six  inches  in 
height,  with  features  decidedly  plain,  but  with 
an  absence  of  pretension  that  was  creditable 
to  him,  considering  that  he  was  really  what 
he  purported  to  be.  Stuyvesant  walked  by 
his  side,  nearly  a  head  taller,  and  of  more  dis- 
tinguished bearing,  though  of  plebeian  extrac- 
tion. His  manner  was  exceedingly  deferen- 
tial, and  he  was  praising  England  and  every- 
thing English  in  a  fulsome  manner. 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  Carl  overheard  him  say,  "I 
have  often  thought  that  society  in  England 
is  far  superior  to  our  American  society." 

"Thanks,  you  are  very  kind,"  drawled  the 
nobleman,  "but  really  I  find  things  very  de- 
cent in  America,  upon  my  word.  I  had  been 
reading  Dickens's  'Notes'  before  I  came  over 
and  I  expected  to  find  you  very  uncivilized, 
and — almost  aboriginal;  but  I  assure  you  I 
have  met  some  very  gentlemanly  persons  in 
America,  some  almost  up  to  our  English  stand- 
ard." 

"Keally,  my  lord,  such  a  tribute  from  a  man 
in  your  position  is  most  gratifying.  May  I 
state  this  on  your  authority?" 

"Yes,  I  don't  mind,  but  I  would  rather  not 
get  into  the  papers,  don't  you  know.  You  are 
not  a — reporter,  I  hope." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Stuyvesant,  in  a  lofty 


Driven    from    Home.  247 

tone.  "I  am  a  scion  of  one  of  the  oldest  fam- 
ilies in  New  York.  Of  course  I  know  that 
social  position  is  a  very  different  thing  here 
from  what  it  is  in  England.  It  must  be  a  grat- 
ifying thing  to  reflect  that  you  are  a  lord." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  I  never  thought  much 
about  it." 

"I  should  like  so  much  to  be  a  lord.  I  care 
little  for  money." 

"Then,  by  Jove,  you  are  a  remarkable  man." 

"In  comparison  with  rank,  I  mean.  I  would 
rather  be  a  lord  with  a  thousand  pounds  a 
year  than  a  rich  merchant  with  ten  times  as 
much." 

"You'll  find  it  very  inconvenient  being  a  lord 
on  a  thousand;  you  might  as  well  be  a  beg- 
gar." 

"I  suppose,  of  course,  high  rank  requires 
a  large  rent  roll.  In  fact,  a  New  York  gentle- 
man requires  more  than  a  trifle  to  support 
him.  I  can't  dress  on  less  than  two  hundred 
pounds  a  year." 

"Your  American  tailors  are  high-priced, 
then?" 

"Those  that  I  employ;  we  have  cheap  tail- 
ors, of  course,  but  I  generally  go  to  Bell." 

Mr.  Stuyvesant  was  posing  as  a  gentleman 
of  fashion.  Carl,  who  followed  at  a  little  dis- 
tance behind  the  pair,  was  much  amused  by 
his  remarks,  knowing  what  he  did  about  him. 


248  Driven    from   Home. 

"I  think  a  little  of  going  to  England  in  a 
few  months,"  continued  Stuyvesant. 

"Indeed !  You  must  look  me  up,"  said  Bed- 
ford, carelessly. 

"I  should,  indeed,  be  delighted,"  said  Stuy- 
vesant, effusively. 

"That  is,  if  I  am  in  England.  I  may  be 
on  the  Continent,  but  you  can  inquire  for  me 
at  my  club — the  Piccadilly." 

"I  shall  esteem  it  a  great  honor,  my  lord. 
I  have  a  penchant  for  good  society.  The  lower 
orders  are  not  attractive  to  me." 

"They  are  sometimes  more  interesting," 
said  the  Englishman;  "but  do  you  know,  I  am 
surprised  to  hear  an  American  speak  in  this 
way.  I  thought  you  were  all  on  a  level  here 
in  a  republic." 

"Oh,  my  lord!"  expostulated  Stuyvesant, 
deprecatingly.  "You  don't  think  I  would  asso- 
ciate with  shopkeepers  and  common  trades- 
men?" 

"I  don't  know.  A  cousin  of  mine  is  in- 
terested in  a  wine  business  in  London.  He 
is  a  younger  son  with  a  small  fortune,  and 
draws  a  very  tidy  income  from  his  city  busi- 
ness." 

"But  his  name  doesn't  appear  on  the  sign, 
I  infer." 

"No,  I  think  not.  Then  you  are  not  in  busi- 
ness, Mr.  Stuyvesant?" 


Driven   from    Home.  249 

"No;  I  inherited  an  income  from  my  father. 
It  isn't  as  large  as  I  could  wish,  and  I  have 
abstained  from  marrying  because  I  could  not 
maintain  the  mode  of  living  to  which  I  have 
been  accustomed." 

"You  should  marry  a  rich  girl." 

"True!     I  may  do  so,  since  your  lordship 

recommends  it.      In  fact,  I  have  in  view  a 

young  lady  whose  father  was  once  lord  mayor 

I  beg  pardon,  mayor)   of  New  York.     Her 

father  is  worth  a  million." 

"Pounds?" 

"Well,  no,  dollars.  I  should  have  said  two 
hundred  thousand  pounds." 

"If  the  girl  is  willing,  it  may  be  a  good 
plan." 

"Thank  you,  my  lord.  Your  advice  is  very 
kind." 

"The  young  man  seems  on  very  good  terms 
with  Lord  Bedford,"  said  Carl's  companion, 
whose  name  was  Atwood,  with  a  shade  of  envy 
in  his  voice. 

"Yes,"  said  Carl. 

"I  wish  he  would  introduce  me,"  went  on 
Mr.  Atwood. 

"I  should  prefer  the  introduction  of  a  dif- 
ferent man,"  said  Carl. 

''Why?    He  seems  to  move  in  good  society." 

"Without  belonging  to  it." 

"Then  you  know  him?" 


250  Driven    from    Home. 

"Better  than  I  wish  I  did." 
Atwood  looked  curious. 
"I  will  explain  later,"  said  Carl;  "now  I 
must  go  in  to  breakfast." 
"I  will  go  with  you." 

Though  Stuyvesant  had  glanced  at  Carl,  he 
did  not  appear  to  recognize  him,  partly,  no 
doubt,  because  he  had  no  expectation  of  meet- 
ing the  boy  he  had  robbed,  at  Niagara.  Be- 
sides, his  time  and  attention  were  so  much 
taken  up  by  his  aristocratic  acquaintance  that 
he  had  little  notice  for  anyone  else.  Carl  ob- 
served with  mingled  amusement  and  vexation 
that  Mr.  Stuyvesant  wore  a  new  necktie,  which 
he  had  bought  for  himself  in  New  York,  and 
which  had  been  in  the  stolen  gripsack. 

"If  I  can  find  Lord  Bedford  alone  I  will  put 
him  on  his  guard,"  thought  Carl.  "I  shall 
spoil  Mr.  Stuyvesant's  plans." 

After  breakfast  Carl  prepared  to  go  down 
to  the  falls. 

On  the  way  he  overtook  Lord  Bedford  walk- 
ing in  the  same  direction,  and,  as  it  happened, 
without  a  companion.  Carl  quickened  his 
pace,  and  as  he  caught  up  with  him,  he  raised 
his  hat,  and  said :  "Lord  Bedford,  I  believe." 
"Yes,"  answered  the  Englishman,  inquir- 
ingly. 

"I  must  apologize  for  addressing  a  stranger, 
but  I  want  to  put  you  on  your  guard  against 


Driven    from    Home.  251 

a  young  man  whom  I  saw  walking  with  you 
on  the  piazza." 

"Is  he — what  do  you  know  of  him?"  asked 
Lord  Bedford,  laying  aside  his  air  of  indif- 
ference. 

"I  know  that  he  is  an  adventurer  and  a  thief. 
I  made  his  acquaintance  on  a  Hudson  River 
steamer,  and  he  walked  off  with  my  valise  and 
a  small  sum  of  money." 

"Is  this  true?"  asked  the  Englishman,  in 
amazement. 

"Quite  true.  He  is  wearing  one  of  my  neck- 
ties at  this  moment." 

"The  confounded  cad!"  ejaculated  the  Eng- 
lishman, angrily.  "I  suppose  he  intended  to 
rob  me." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it.  That  is  why  I  ven- 
tured to  put  you  on  your  guard." 

"I  am  a  thousand  times  obliged  to  you.  Why, 
the  fellow  told  me  he  belonged  to  one  of  the 
best  families  in  New  York." 

"If  he  does,  he  doesn't  do  much  credit  to 
the  family." 

"Quite  true!  Why,  he  was  praising  every- 
thing English.  He  evidently  wanted  to  gain 
my  confidence." 

"May  I  ask  where  you  met  him?"  asked  Car). 

"On  the  train.  He  offered  me  a  light.  Be- 
fore I  knew  it,  he  was  chatting  familiarly  with 
me.     But  his  game  is  spoiled.     I  will  let  him 


252  Driven   from    Home. 

know  that  I  see  through  him  and  his  designs." 

"Then  my  object  is  accomplished,"  said  Carl. 
"Please  excuse  my  want  of  ceremony."  He 
turned  to  leave,  but  Bedford  called  him  back. 

"If  you  are  going  to  the  falls,  remain  with 
me,"  he  said.  "We  shall  enjoy  it  better  in 
company." 

"With  pleasure.  Let  me  introduce  myself 
as  Carl  Crawford.  I  am  traveling  on  business 
and  don't  belong  to  one  of  the  first  families." 

"I  see  you  will  suit  me,"  said  the  English- 
man, smiling. 

Just  then  up  came  Stuyvesant,  panting  and 
breathless.  "My  lord,"  he  said,  "I  lost  sight 
of  you.     If  you  will  allow  me  I  will  join  you." 

"Sir!"  said  the  Englishman,  in  a  freezing 
voice,  "I  have  not  the  honor  of  knowing  you." 

Stuyvesant  was  overwhelmed. 

"I — I  hope  I  have  not  offended  you,  my 
lord,"  he  said. 

"Sir,  I  have  learned  your  character  from 
this  young  man." 

This  called  the  attention  of  Stuyvesant  to 
Carl.     He  flushed  as  he  recognized  him. 

"Mr.  Stuyvesant,"  said  Carl,  "I  must  trou- 
ble you  to  return  the  valise  you  took  from  my 
stateroom,  and  the  pocketbook  which  you  bor- 
rowed. My  name  is  Carl  Crawford,  and  my 
room  is  71." 

Stuyvesant  turned  away  abruptly.     He  left 


Driven    from    Home.  253 

the  valise  at  the  desk,  but  Carl  never  recovered 
his  money. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

WHAT  CARL  LEARNED  IN  CHICAGO. 

As  Carl  walked  back  from  the  falls  he  met 
Mr.  Atwood,  who  was  surprised  to  find  his 
young  acquaintance  on  such  intimate  terms 
with  Lord  Bedford.  He  was  about  to  pass 
with  a  bow,  when  Carl,  who  was  good-natured, 
said:  "Won't  you  join  us,  Mr.  Atwood?  If 
Lord  Bedford  will  permit,  I  should  like  to  in- 
troduce you." 

"Glad  to  know  any  friend  of  yours,  Mr. 
Crawford,"  said  the  Englishman,  affably. 

"I  feel  honored  by  the  introduction,"  said 
Atwood,  bowing  profoundly. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  a  friend  of  Mr.— ah, 
Mr.  Stuyvesant,"  said  the  nobleman,  "the  per- 
son I  was  talking  with  this  morning.  Mr. 
Crawford  tells  me  he  is  a— what  do  you  call 
it? — a  confidence  man." 

"I  have  no  acquaintance  with  him,  my  lord. 
I  saw  him  just  now  leaving  the  hotel." 

"I  am  afraid  he  has  gone  away  with  my 
valise  and  money,"  said  Carl. 

"If  you  should  be  inconvenienced,  Mr.  Craw- 


254  Driven   from   Home. 

ford,"  said  the  nobleman,  "my  purse  is  at  your 

disposal." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Lord  Bedford,"  said 
Carl,  gratefully.  "I  am  glad  to  say  I  am  still 
fairly  well  provided  with  money." 

"I  was  about  to  make  you  the  same  offer, 
Mr.  Crawford,"  said  Atwood. 

"Thank  you!  I  appreciate  your  kindness, 
even  if  I'm  not  obliged  to  avail  myself  of  it." 

Returning  to  the  hotel,  Lord  Bedford  or- 
dered a  carriage,  and  invited  Atwood  and  Carl 
to  accompany  him  on  a  drive.  Mr.  Atwood 
was  in  an  ecstasy,  and  anticipated  with  proud 
satisfaction  telling  his  family  of  his  intimate 
friend,  Lord  Bedford,  of  England.  The  peer, 
though  rather  an  ordinary-looking  man, 
seemed  to  him  a  model  of  aristocratic  beauty. 
It  was  a  weakness  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Atwood, 
but  an  amiable  one,  and  is  shared  by  many 
who  live  under  republican  institutions. 

After  dinner  Carl  felt  obliged  to  resume  his 
journey.  He  had  found  his  visit  to  Niagara 
very  agreeable,  but  his  was  a  business  and  not 
a  pleasure  trip,  and  loyalty  to  his  employer 
required  him  to  cut  it  short.  Lord  Bedford 
shook  his  hand  heartily  at  parting. 

"I  hope  we  shall  meet  again,  Mr.  Crawford," 
he  said.  "I  expect,  myself,  to  reach  Chicago 
on  Saturday,  and  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  call 
en  me  at  the  Palmer  House." 


Driven   from   Home.  255 

"Thank  you,  my  lord;  I  will  certainly  iu- 
({ii ire  for  you  there." 

"He  is  a  very  good  fellow,  even  if  he  is  a 
lord,"  thought  Carl. 

Our  young  hero  was  a  thorough  American, 
and  was  disposed  to  think  with  Robert  Burns, 
that 

"The  rank  is  hut  the  guinea  stamp; 
The  man's  the  gold  for  a'  that!" 


No  incident  worth  recording  befell  Carl  on 
bis  trip  to  Chicago.  As  as  salesman  he  met 
with  excellent  success,  and  surprised  Mr.  Jen- 
nings by  the  size  of  his  orders.  He  was  led, 
on  reaching  Chicago,  to  register  at  the  Sher- 
man House,  on  Clark  Street,  one  of  the  most 
reliable  among  the  many  houses  for  travelers 
offered  by  the  great  Western  metropolis. 

On  the  second  day  he  made  it  a  point  to  find 
out  the  store  of  John  French,  hoping  to  ac- 
quire the  information  desired  by  Miss  Norris. 

It  was  a  store  of  good  size,  and  apparently 
well  stocked.  Feeling  the  need  of  new  foot- 
gear, Carl  entered  and  asked  to  be  shown  some 
shoes.  He  was  waited  upon  by  a  young  clerk 
named  Gray,  with  whom  he  struck  up  a  pleas- 
ant acquaintance. 

"Do  you  live  in  Chicago?"  asked  Gray,  so- 
ciably. 


256  Driven   from    Home. 

"No ;  I  am  from  New  York  State.  I  am  here 
on  business." 

"Staying  at  a  hotel?" 

"Yes,  at  the  Sherman.  If  you  are  at  leisure 
this  evening  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  call 
on  me.  I  am  a  stranger  here,  and  likely  to 
find  the  time  hang  heavy  on  my  hands." 

"I  shall  be  free  at  six  o'elock." 

"Then  come  to  supper  with  me." 

"Thank  you,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so,"  an- 
swered Gray,  with  alacrity.  Living  as  he  did 
at  a  cheap  boarding  house,  the  prospect  of  a 
supper  at  a  first-class  hotel  was  very  attrac- 
tive. He  was  a  pleasant-faced  young  man  of 
twenty,  who  had  drifted  to  Chicago  from  his 
country  home  in  Indiana,  and  found  it  hard 
to  make  both  ends  meet  on  a  salary  of  nine  dol- 
lars a  week.  His  habits  were  good,  his  man- 
ner was  attractive  and  won  him  popularity 
with  customers,  and  with  patience  he  was 
likely  to  succeed  in  the  end. 

"I  wish  I  could  live  like  this  every  day,"  he 
said,  as  he  rose  from  a  luxurious  supper.  "At 
present  my  finances  won't  allow  me  to  board 
at  the  Sherman." 

"Nor  would  mine,"  said  Carl;  "but  I  am 
allowed  to  spend  money  more  freely  when  I 
am  traveling." 

"Are  you  acquainted  in  New  York?"  asked 
Grajr. 


Driven    from    Home.  257 

"I  have  little  or  do  acquaintance  in  the  city," 
answered  Carl. 

"I  should  be  glad  to  get  a  position  there." 

"Are  you  not  satisfied  with  your  present 
place?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  long  keep  it." 

"Why  not?  Do  you  think  you  are  in  any 
danger  of  being  discharged?" 

"It  is  not  that.  I  am  afraid  Mr.  French  will 
be  obliged  to  give  up  business." 

"Why?"  asked  Carl,  with  keen  interest. 

"I  have  reason  to  think  he  is  embarrassed. 
I  know  that  he  has  a  good  many  bills  out,  some 
of  which  have  been  runniDg  a  long  time.  If 
any  pressure  is  brought  to  bear  upon  him,  he 
may  have  to  suspend." 

Carl  felt  that  he  was  obtaining  important 
information.  If  Mr.  French  were  in  such  a 
condition  Miss  Norris  would  be  pretty  sure 
£0  lose  her  money  if  she  advanced  it. 

"To  what  do  you  attribute  Mr.  French's  em- 
barrassment?" he  asked. 

"He  lives  expensively  in  a  handsome  house 
near  Lincoln  Park  and  draws  heavily  upon 
the  business  for  his  living  expenses.  I  think 
that  explains  it.  I  only  wonder  that  he  has 
been  able  to  hold  out  so  long." 

"Perhaps  if  he  were  assisted  he  would  be 
able  to  keep  his  head  above  water." 

"He  would  need  a  good  deal  of  assistance. 


258  Driven    from    Home. 

You  see  that  my  place  isn't  very  secure,  and 
I  shall  soon  need  to  be  looking  up  another." 

"I  don't  think  T  shall  need  to  inquire  any 
farther,"  thought  Carl.  "It  seems  to  me  Miss 
Norris  had  better  keep  her  money." 

Before  he  retired  he  indited  the  following 
letter  to  his  Albany  employer: 

Miss  Rachel  Norris. 

"Dear  Madam  : — I  have  attended  to  your 
commission,  and  have  to  report  that  Mr. 
French  appears  to  be  involved  in  business  em- 
barrassments, and  in  great  danger  to  bank- 
ruptcy. The  loan  he  asks  of  you  would  no 
doubt  be  of  service,  but  probably  would  not 
long  delay  the  crash.  If  you  wish  to  assist 
him,  it  would  be  better  to  allow  him  to  fail, 
and  then  advance  him  the  money  to  put  him 
on  his  feet.  I  am  told  that  his  troubles  come 
from  living  beyond  his  means. 
"Yours  respectfully, 

"Carl  Crawford." 

By  return  mail  Carl  received  the  following 
note: 

"My  Dear  Young  Friend: — Your  report 
confirms  the  confidence  I  reposed  in  you.  It 
is  just  the  information  I  desired.  I  shall  take 
your  advice  and  refuse  the  loan.  What  other 
action  I  may  take  hereafter  I  cannot  tell. 
When  you  return,  should  you  stop  in  Albany, 


Driven    from    Home.  259 

please  call  011  me.     If  unable  to  do  this,  write 
me  from  Milford.  Your  friend, 

"Rachel  Norris." 

Carl  was  detained  for  several  days  in  Chi- 
cago. He  chanced  to  meet  his  English  friend, 
Lord  Bedford,  upon  his  arrival,  and  the  noble- 
man, on  learning  where  he  was  staying,  also 
registered  at  the  Sherman  House.  In  his  com- 
pany Carl  took  a  drive  over  the  magnificent 
boulevard  which  is  the  pride  of  Chicago,  and 
rose  several  degrees  in  the  opinion  of  those 
guests  who  noticed  his  intimacy  with  the  Eng- 
lish guest. 

Carl  had  just  completed  his  Chicago  busi- 
ness when,  on  entering  the  hotel,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a  neighbor  of  his  father's — Cyrus 
Robinson — a  prominent  business  man  of  Edge- 
wood  Center.  Carl  was  delighted,  for  he  had 
not  been  home,  or  seen  any  home  friends  for 
over  a  year. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Robinson,"  he 
said,  offering  his  hand. 

"What !  Carl  Crawford !"  exclaimed  Robin- 
son, in  amazement.  "How  came  you  in  Chi- 
cago? Your  father  did  not  tell  me  you  were 
here." 

"He  does  not  know  it.  I  am  only  here  on 
a  business  visit.  Tell  me,  Mr.  Robinson,  how 
is  my  father?" 


260  Driven    from    Home. 

"I  think,  Carl,  that  he  is  not  at  all  well.  I 
am  quite  sure  he  misses  you,  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve your  stepmother's  influence  over  him  is 
beneficial.  Just  before  I  came  away  I  heard 
a  rumor  that  troubled  me.  It  is  believed  in 
Edgewood  that  she  is  trying  to  induce  your 
father  to  make  a  will  leaving  all,  or  nearly  all 
his  property  to  her  and  her  son." 

"I  don't  care  so  much  for  that,  Mr.  Kobin- 
son,  as  for  my  father's  health." 

"Carl,"  said  Robinson,  significantly,  "if  such 
a  will  is  made  I  don't  believe  your  father  will 
live  long  after  it." 

"You  don't  mean  that?"  said  Carl,  horror- 
struck. 

"I  think  Mrs.  Crawford,  by  artful  means, 
will  worry  your  father  to  death.  He  is  of  a 
nervous  temperament,  and  an  unscrupulous 
woman  can  shorten  his  life  without  laying  her- 
self open  to  the  law." 

Carl's  face  grew  stern. 

"I  will  save  my  father,"  he  said,  "and  de- 
feat my  stepmother's  wicked  schemes." 

"I  pray  Heaven  you  can.  There  is  no  time 
to  be  lost." 

"I  shall  lose  no  time,  you  may  be  sure.  I 
shall  be  at  Edgewood  within  a  week." 


Driven   from   Home.  261 

CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

MAKING  A  WILL. 

In  Edgewood  Center  events  moved  slowly. 
In  Carl  Crawford's  home  dullness  reigned  su- 
preme. He  had  been  the  life  of  the  house, 
and  his  absence,  though  welcome  to  his  step- 
mother, was  seriously  felt  by  his  father,  who 
day  by  day  became  thinner  and  weaker,  while 
his  step  grew  listless  and  his  face  seldom 
brightened  with  a  smile.  He  was  anxious  to 
have  Carl  at  home  again,  and  the  desire  be- 
came so  strong  that  he  finally  broached  the 
subject. 

"My  dear,"  he  said  one  day  at  the  breakfast 
table,  "I  have  been  thinking  of  Carl  considera- 
bly of  late." 

"Indeed !"  said  Mrs.  Crawford,  coldly. 

"I  think  I  should  like  to  have  him  at  home 
once  more." 

Mrs.  Crawford  smiled  ominously. 

"He  is  better  off  where  he  is,"  she  said, 
softly. 

"But  he  is  my  only  son,  and  I  never  see 
him,"  pleaded  her  husband. 

"You  know  very  well,  Dr.  Crawford,"  re- 
joined his  wife,  "that  your  son  only  made  trou 
ble  in  the  house  while  he  was  here." 


262  Driven   from    Home. 

"Yet  it  seems  hard  that  he  should  be  driven 
from  his  father's  home,  and  forced  to  take  ref- 
uge among  strangers." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  meau  by  his  being 
driven  from  home,"  said  Mrs.  Crawford,  toss- 
ing her  head.  "He  made  himself  disagreeable, 
and,  not  being  able  to  have  his  own  way,  he 
took  French  leave." 

"The  house  seems  very  lonely  without  him," 
went  on  Dr.  Crawford,  who  was  too  wise  to  get 
into  an  argument  with  his  wife. 

"It  certainly  is  more  quiet.  As  for  com- 
pany, Peter  is  still  here,  and  would  at  any  time 
stay  with  you." 

Peter  did  not  relish  this  suggestion,  and 
did  not  indorse  it. 

"I  should  not  care  to  confine  him  to  the 
house,"  said  Dr.  Crawford,  as  his  glance  rested 
on  the  plain  and  by  no  means  agreeable  face 
of  his  stepson. 

"I  suppose  I  need  not  speak  of  myself.  You 
know  that  you  can  always  call  upon  me." 

If  Dr.  Crawford  had  been  warmly  attached 
to  his  second  wife,  this  proposal  would  have 
cheered  him,  but  the  time  had  gone  by  when 
Le  found  any  pleasure  in  her  society.  There 
wns  a  feeling  of  almost  repulsion  which  he 
tried  to  conceal,  and  he  was  obliged  to  acknowl- 
edge to  himself  that  the  presence  of  his  wife 
gave  him  rather  uneasiness  than  comfort. 


Driven    from    Home.  263 

"Carl  is  very  well  off  where  he  is,"  resumed 
Mrs.  Crawford.  "He  is  filling  a  business  po- 
sition, humble,  perhaps,  but  still  one  that  gives 
him  his  living  and  keeps  him  out  of  mischief. 
Let  well  enough  alone,  doctor,  and  don't  in- 
terrupt his  plans.''* 

"I — I  may  be  foolish,"  said  the  doctor,  hes- 
itating, "but  I  have  not  been  feeling  as  well 
as  usual  lately,  and  if  anything  should  hap- 
pen to  me  while  Carl  was  absent  I  should  die 
very  unhappy." 

Mrs.  Crawford  regarded  her  husband  with 
uneasiness. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  think  you  are  in 
any  danger?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  know.  I  am  not  an  old  man,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  am  an  invalid.  My  fa- 
ther died  when  he  was  only  a  year  older  than 
I  am  at  present." 

Mrs.  Crawford  drew  out  her  handkerchief, 
and  proceeded  to  wipe  her  tearless  eyes. 

"You  distress  me  beyond  measure  by  your 
words,  my  dear  husband.  How  can  I  think 
of  your  death  without  emotion?  What  should 
I  do  without  you?" 

"My  dear,  you  must  expect  to  survive  me. 
You  are  younger  than  I,  and  much  stronger." 

"Besides,"  and  Mrs.  Crawford  made  an  art- 
ful pause,  "I  hardly  like  to  mention  it,  but 
Peter  and   I    are   poor,  and    by   your    death 


264  Driven    from    Home. 

might  be  left  to  the  cold  mercies  of  the  world. " 

"Surely  I  would  not  fail  to  provide  for  you." 

Mrs.  Crawford  shook  her  head. 

"I  am  sure  of  your  kind  intentions,  my  hus- 
band," she  said,  "but  they  will  not  avail  unless 
you  provide  for  me  in  your  will." 

"Yes,  it's  only  right  that  I  should  do  so.  As 
soon  as  I  feel  equal  to  the  effort  I  will  draw  up 
a  will." 

"I  hope  you  will,  for  I  should  not  care  to  be 
dependent  on  Carl,  who  does  not  like  me.  I 
hope  you  will  not  think  me  mercenary,  but  to 
Peter  and  myself  this  is  of  vital  importance." 

"No,  I  don't  misjudge  you.  I  ought  to  have 
thought  of  it  before." 

"I  don't  care  so  much  about  myself,"  said 
Mrs.  Crawford,  in  a  tone  of  self-sacrifice,  "but 
I  should  not  like  to  have  Peter  thrown  upon 
the  world  without  means." 

"All  that  you  say  is  wise  and  reasonable," 
answered  her  husband,  wearily.  "I  will  at- 
tend to  the  matter  to-morrow." 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Crawford  came  into  her 
husband's  presence  with  a  sheet  of  legal  cap. 

"My  dear  husband,"  she  said,  in  a  soft,  in- 
sinuating tone,  "I  wished  to  spare  you  trou- 
ble, and  I  have  accordingly  drawn  up  a  will 
to  submit  to  you,  and  receive  your  signature, 
*f  you  approve  it." 

Dr.  Crawford  looked  surprised. 


Driven    from    Home.  265 

"Where  did  you  learn  to  write  a  will?"  he 
asked. 

"I  used  in  my  days  of  poverty  to  copy  docu- 
ments for  a  lawyer,"  she  replied.  "In  this  way 
I  became  something  of  a  lawyer  myself." 

"I  see.  Will  you  read  what  you  have  pre- 
pared?" 

Mrs.  Crawford  read  the  document  in  her 
hand.  It  provided  in  the  proper  legal  phrase- 
ology for  an  equal  division  of  the  testator's 
estate  between  the  widow  and  Carl. 

"I  didn't  know,  of  course,  what  provision 
you  intended  to  make  for  me,"  she  said,  meekly. 
"Perhaps  you  do  not  care  to  leave  me  half  the 
estate." 

"Yes,  that  seems  only  fair.  You  do  not 
mention  Peter.  I  ought  to  do  something  for 
him." 

"Your  kindness  touches  me,  my  dear  hus- 
band, but  I  shall  be  able  to  provide  for  him 
out  of  my  liberal  bequest.  I  do  not  wish  to 
rob  your  son,  Carl.  I  admit  that  I  do  not 
like  him,  but  that  shall  not  hinder  me  from 
being  just." 

Dr.  Crawford  was  pleased  with  this  unex- 
pected concession  from  his  wife.  He  felt  that 
he  should  be  more  at  ease  if  Carl's  future  was 
assured. 

"Very  well,  my  dear,"  he  said,  cheerfully. 
"I  approve  of  the  will  as  you  have  drawn  it 


266  Driven    from    Home. 

up,  and  I  will  affix    iny    signature   at   once." 

"Then,  shall  I  send  for  two  of  the  neighbors 
to  witness  it?'' 

"It  will  be  well." 

Two  near  neighbors  were  sent  for  and  wit- 
nessed Dr.  Crawford's  signature  to  the  will. 

There  was  a  strangely  triumphant  look  in 
Mrs.  Crawford's  eyes  as  she  took  the  docu- 
ment after  it  had  been  duly  executed. 

"You  will  let  me  keep  this,  doctor?"  she 
asked.  "It  will  be  important  for  your  son  as 
well  as  myself,  that  it  should  be  in  safe  hands." 

"Yes;  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  do  so.  I 
rejoice  that  it  is  off  my  mind." 

"You  won't  think  me  mercenary,  my  dear 
husband,  or  indifferent  to  your  life?" 

"No;  why  should  I?" 

"Then  I  am  satisfied." 

Mrs.  Crawford  took  the  will,  and  carrying 
it  upstairs,  opened  her  trunk,  removed  the  false 
bottom,  and  deposited  under  it  the  last  will 
and  testament  of  Dr.  Paul  Crawford. 

"At  last!"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  am  se- 
cure, and  have  compassed  what  I  have  labored 
for  so  long." 

Dr.  Crawford  had  not  noticed  that  the  will 
to  which  he  affixed  his  signature  was  not  the 
same  that  had  been  read  to  him.  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford had  artfully  substituted  another  paper 
of  quite  different  tenor.     By  the  will  actually 


Driven    from    Home.  267 

executed,  the  entire  estate  was  left  to  Mrs. 
Crawford,  who  was  left  guardian  of  her  son 
and  Carl,  and  authorized  to  make  such  provi- 
sion for  each  as  she  might  deem  suitable.  This, 
of  course,  made  Carl  entirely  dependent  on 
a  woman  who  hated  him. 

"Now,  Dr.  Paul  Crawford,"  said  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford to  herself,  with  a  cold  smile,  "you  may 
die  as  soon  as  you  please.  Peter  and  I  are 
provided  for.  Your  father  died  when  a  year 
older  than  you  are  now,  you  tell  me.  It  is 
hardly  likely  that  you  will  live  to  a  greater 
age  than  he." 

She  called  the  next  day  on  the  family  physi- 
cian, and  with  apparent  solicitude  asked  his 
opinion  of  Dr.  Crawford's  health. 

"He  is  all  I  have,"  she  said,  pathetically, 
"all  except  my  dear  Peter.  Tell  me  what  you 
think  of  his  chances  of  continued  life." 

"Your  husband,"  replied  the  physician,  "has 
one  weak  organ.  It  is  his  heart.  He  may  live 
for  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  but  a  sudden  ex- 
citement might  carry  him  off  in  a  moment. 
The  best  thing  you  can  do  for  him  is  to  keep 
him  tranquil  and  free  from  any  sudden  shock." 

Mrs.  Crawford  listened  attentively. 

"I  will  do  my  best,"  she  said,  "since  so  much 
depends  on  it." 

When  she  returned  home  it  was  with  a  set- 
tled purpose  in  her  heart. 


268  Driven    from    Home. 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

PETER    LETS    OUT    A    SECRET. 

"Can  you  direct  me  to  the  house  of  Dr. 
Crawford?-'  asked  a  stranger. 

The  inquiry  was  addressed  to  Peter  Cook 
in  front  of  the  hotel  in  Edgewood  Center. 

"Yes,  sir;  he  is  my  stepfather!" 

"Indeed !  I  did  not  know  that  my  old  friend 
was  married  again.  You  say  you  are  his  step- 
son?" 

"'Yes,  sir." 

"He  has  an  own  son,  about  your  age,  I 
should  judge." 

"That's  Carl !  he  is  a  little  older  than  me." 

"Is  he  at  home?" 

"No,"  answered  Peter,  pursing  up  his  lips. 

"Is  he  absent  at  boarding  school?" 

"No ;  he's  left  home." 

"Indeed!"  ejaculated  the  stranger,  in  sur- 
prise.    "How  is  that?" 

"He  was  awfully  hard  to  get  along  with,  and 
didn't  treat  mother  with  any  respect.  He 
wanted  to  have  his  own  way,  and,  of  course, 
ma  couldn't  stand  that." 

"I  see,"  returned  the  stranger,  and  he  eyed 
Peter  curiously.  "What  did  his  father  say 
to  his  leaving  home?"  he  asked. 


Driven    from    Home.  269 

;<Oh,  he  always  does  as  ma  wishes." 

"Was  Carl  willing  to  leave  home?" 

"Yes:  he  said  lie  would  rather  go  than  obey 
ma." 

"I  suppose  he  receives  an  allowance  from 
his  father?" 

"No;  he  wanted  one,  but  ma  put  her  foot 
down  and  said  he  shouldn't  have  one." 

"Your  mother  seems  to  be  a.  woman  of  con- 
siderable firmness." 

"You  bet,  she's  firm.  She  don't  allow  no  boy 
to  boss  her." 

"Really,  this  boy  is  a  curiosity,"  said  Reu- 
ben Ashcroft  to  himself.  "He  doesn't  excel 
in  the  amiable  and  attractive  qualities.  He 
has  a  sort  of  brutal  frankness  which  can't  keep 
a  secret." 

"How  did  you  and  Carl  get  along  together?" 
he  asked,  aloud. 

"We  didn't  get  along  at  all.  He  wanted  to 
boss  me,  and  ma  and  I  wouldn't  have  it." 

"So  the  upshot  was  that  he  had  to  leave  the 
house  and  you  remained?" 

"Yes,  that's  the  way  of  it,"  said  Peter,  laugh- 
ing. 

"And  Carl  was  actually  sent  out  to  earn  his 
own  living  without  help  of  any  kind  from  his 
father?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  be  doing?"  asked  Ashcroft,  in  some 


270  Driven   from   Home. 

excitement.  "Good  heavens!  he  may  have  suf* 
fered  from  hunger." 

"Are  you  a  friend  of  his?"  asked  Peter, 
sharply. 

"I  am  a  friend  of  anyone  who  requires  a 
friend." 

"Carl  is  getting  along  well  enough.  He  is 
at  work  in  some  factory  in  Milford,  and  gets 
a  living." 

"Hasn't  he  been  back  since  he  first  left 
home?" 

"No." 

"How  long  ago  is  that?" 

"Oh,  'bout  a  year,"  answered  Peter,  care- 
essly. 

"How  is  Dr.  Crawford?  Is  he  in  good 
health?" 

"He  ain't  very  well.  Ma  told  me  the  other 
clay  she  didn't  think  he  would  live  long.  She 
got  him  to  make  a  will  the  other  day." 

"Why,  this  seems  to  be  a  conspiracy!" 
thought  Ashcroft.  "I'd  give  something  to  see 
that  will." 

"I  suppose  he  will  provide  for  you  and  your 
mother  handsomely?" 

"Yes;  ma  said  she  was  to  have  control  of 
the  property.  I  guess  Carl  will  have  to  stand 
round  if  he  expects  any  favors." 

"It  is  evident  this  boy  can't  keep  a  secret," 
ih-ught  Ashcroft.     "All  the  better  for  me.     T 


Driven    from    Home.  2'ff 

hope  I  am   in   time  to  defeat  lliis  womanV 
schemes." 

"There's  the  house,"  said  Peter,  pointing  K 
out. 

"Do  you  think  Dr.  Crawford  is  at  home?" 

"Oh,  yes,  he  doesn't  go  out  much.     Ma  i<* 
away  this  afternoon.     She's  at  the  sewing  cir 
cle,  I  think." 

"Thank  you  for  serving  as  my  guide,"  said 
Ashcroft.  "There's  a  little  acknowledgment 
which  I  hope  will  be  of  service  to  you." 

He  offered  a  half  dollar  to  Peter,  who  ac- 
cepted it  joyfully  and  was  profuse  in  hir 
thanks. 

"Now,  if  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  tell  the 
doctor  that  an  old  friend  wishes  to  see  him, 
I  shall  be  still  further  obliged." 

"Just  follow  me,  then,"  said  Peter,  and  h** 
led  the  way  into  the  sitting-room. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

DR.  CRAWFORD  IS  TAKEN  TO  TASK. 

After  the  first  greetings,  Reuben  Ashcroft 
noticed  with  pain  the  fragile  look  of  his  friend. 
"Are  you  well?"  he  risked. 
"1  am  not  very  strong."  said  Dr.  Crawford, 


272  Driven    from    Home. 

smiling  faintly,  "but  Mrs.  Crawford  takes  good 
care  of  ine." 

"And  Carl,  too — he  is  no  doubt  a  comfort 
to  you?" 

Dr.  Crawford  flushed  painfully. 

"Carl  has  been  away  from  home  for  a  year,** 
he  said,  with  an  effort. 

"That  is  strange — your  own  son,  too!  Is 
there  anything  unpleasant?  You  may  confide 
in  me,  as  I  am  the  cousin  of  Carl's  mother." 

"The  fact  is,  Carl  and  Mrs.  Crawford  didn't 
hit  it  off  very  well." 

"And  you  took  sides  against  your  own  son," 
said  Ashcroft,  indignantly. 

"I  begin  to  think  I  was  wrong,  Reuben.  You 
don't  know  how  I  have  missed  the  boy." 

"Yet  you  sent  him  out  into  the  world  with 
out  a  penny." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  asked  Dr.  Craw- 
ford, quickly. 

"I  had  a  little  conversation  with  your  step- 
son as  I  came  to  the  house.  He  spoke  very 
frankly  and  unreservedly  about  family  affairs. 
He  says  you  do  whatever  his  mother  tells  you." 

Dr.  Crawford  looked  annoyed  and  blushed 
with  shame. 

"Did  he  say  that?"  he  asked. 

"Yes;  he  said  his  mother  would  not  allow 
you  to  help  Carl." 

"He — misunderstood." 


Driven    from    Home.  273 

"Paul,  I  fear  lie  understands  the  case  only 
too  well.  I  don't  want  to  pain  you,  but  your 
wife  is  counting  on  your  speedy  death." 

"I  told  her  I  didn't  think  I  should  live  long." 

"And  she  got  you  to  make  a  will?" 

"Yes;  did  Peter  tell  you  that?" 

"He  said  his  mother  was  to  have  control 
of  the  property,  and  Carl  would  get  nothing 
if  he  didn't  act  so  as  to  please  her." 

"There  is  some  mistake  here.  By  my  will 
— made  yesterday — Carl  is  to  have  an  equal 
chare,  and  nothing  is  said  about  his  being  de- 
pendent on  anyone." 

"Who  drew  up  the  will?" 

"Mrs.  Crawford." 

"Did  you  read  it?" 

"Yes." 

Ashcroft  looked  puzzled. 

"I  should  like  to  read  the  will  myself,"  he 
said,  after  a  pause.     "Where  is  it  now?" 

"Mrs.  Crawford  has  charge  of  it." 

Reuben  Ashcroft  remained  silent,  but  his 
mind  was  busy. 

"That  woman  is  a  genuis  of  craft,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "My  poor  friend  is  but  a  child 
in  her  hands.  I  did  not  know  Paul  would  be 
so  pitiably  weak." 

"How  do  you  happen  to  be  here  in  Edgewood, 
Reuben?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"I  had  a  little  errand  in  the  next  town,  and 


274  Driven    from   Home. 


could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  visiting 
you." 

"You  can  stay  a  day  or  two,  can  you  not?" 

"I  will,  though  I  had  not  expected  to  do  so." 

"Mrs.  Crawford  is  away  this  afternoon.  She. 
will  be  back  presently,  and  then  I  will  intro- 
duce you." 

At  five  o'clock  Mrs.  Crawford  returned,  and 
her  husband  introduced  her  to  his  friend. 

Ashcroft  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  searchingly. 

"Her  face  looks  strangely  familiar,"  he  said 
to  himself.     "Where  can  I  have  seen  her?" 

Mrs.  Crawford,  like  all  persons  who  have  a 
secret  to  conceal,  was  distrustful  of  strangers. 
She  took  an  instant  dislike  to  Reuben  Ash- 
croft, and  her  greeting  was  exceedingly  cold. 

"I  have  invited  Mr.  Ashcroft  to  make  me 
a  visit  of  two  or  three  days,  my  dear,"  said  her 
husband.     "He  is  a  cousin  to  Carl's  mother." 

Mrs.  Crawford  made  no  response,  but  kept 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  carpet.  She  could 
not  have  shown  more  plainly  that  the  invita- 
tion was  not  approved  by  her. 

"Madam  does  not  want  me  here,"  thought 
Ashcroft,  as  he  fixed  his  gaze  once  more  upon 
his  friend's  wife.  Again  the  face  looked  famil- 
iar, but  he  could  not  place  it. 

"Have  I  not  seen  you  before,  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford?" he  asked,  abruptly. 

"I    don't   remember   you,"    she   answered. 


Driven    from    Home.  273 

slowly.     "Probably  I  resemble  some  one  you 
have  met." 

"Perhaps  so,"  answered  Ashcroft,  but  lie 
could  not  get  rid  of  the  conviction  that  some- 
where and  some  time  in  the  past  he  had  met 
Mrs.  Crawford,  and  under  circumstances  that 
had  fixed  her  countenance  in  his  memory. 

After  supper  Dr.  Crawford  said  :  "My  dear, 
I  have  told  our  guest  that  I  had,  as  a  pruden- 
tial measure,  made  my  will.  I  wish  you  would 
get  it,  and  let  me  read  it  to  him." 

Mrs.  Crawford  looked  startled  and  annoyed. 

"Couldn't  you  tell  him  the  provisions  of  it?" 
she  said. 

"Yes,  but  I  should  like  to  show  him  the  docu- 
ment." 

She  turned  and  went  upstairs.  She  was  ab- 
sent at  least  ten  minutes.  When  she  returned 
she  was  empty-handed. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say,"  she  remarked,  with  a 
forced  laugh,  "that  I  have  laid  away  the  will 
so  carefully  that  I  can't  find  it." 

Ashcroft  fixed  a  searching  look  upon  her, 
that  evidently  annoyed  her. 

"I  may  be  able  to  find  it  to-morrow,"  she 
resumed. 

"I  think  you  told  me,  Paul,"  said  Ashcroft, 
turning  to  Dr.  Crawford,  "that  by  the  will 
your  estate  is  divided  equally  between  Carl  and 
Mrs  Crawford." 


276'  Driven    from    Home. 

"Yes." 

"And  nothing  is  said  of  any  guardianship 
on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Crawford?" 

"No;  I  think  it  would  be  better,  Ashcroft, 
that  you  should  be  Carl's  guardian.  A  man 
can  study  his  interests  and  control  him  better." 

"I  will  accept  the  trust,"  said  Ashcroft, 
"though  I  hope  it  may  be  many  years  before 
the  necessity  arises." 

Mrs.  Crawford  bit  her  lips,  and  darted  an 
angry  glance  at  the  two  friends.  She  foresaw 
that  her  plans  were  threatened  with  failure. 

The  two  men  chatted  throughout  the  even- 
ing, and  Dr.  Crawford  had  never  of  late  seemed 
happier.  It  gave  him  new  life  and  raised  his 
spirits  to  chat  over  old  times  with  his  early 
friend. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A  MAN  OP  ENERGY. 

The  next  morning  Ashcroft  said  to  his  host : 
"Paul,  let  us  take  a  walk  to  the  village." 

Dr.  Crawford  put  on  his  hat,  and  went  out 
with  his  friend. 

"Now,  Paul,"  said  Ashcroft,  when  they  were 
some  rods  distant  from  the  house,  "is  there  a, 
lawyer  in  Edgewood?" 

"Certainly,  and  a  good  one  " 


Driven   from   Home.  277 

"Did  he  indite  your  will?" 

"No ;  Mrs.  Crawford  wrote  it  out.  She  was 
at  one  time  copyist  for  a  lawyer." 

"Take  my  advice  and  have  another  drawn 
up  to-day  without  mentioning  the  matter  to 
her.  She  admits  having  mislaid  the  one  made 
yesterday." 

"It  may  be  a  good  idea," 

"Certainly,  it  is  a  prudent  precaution.  Then 
you  will  be  sure  that  all  is  safe.  I  have,  my- 
self, executed  a  duplicate  will.  One  I  keep, 
the  other  I  have  deposited  with  my  lawyer." 

Ashcroft  was  a.  man  of  energy.  He  saw  that 
Dr.  Crawford,  who  was  of  a  weak,  vacillating 
temper,  executed  the  will.  He  and  another 
witnessed  it,  and  the  document  was  left  with 
the  lawyer. 

"You  think  I  had  better  not  mention  the 
matter  to  Mrs.  Crawford?"  he  said. 

"By  no  means — she  might  think  it  was  a 
reflection  upon  her  for  carelessly  mislaying  the 
first." 

"True,"  and  the  doctor,  who  was  fond  of 
peace,  consented  to  his  friend's  plan. 

"By  the  way,"  asked  Ashcroft,  "who  was 
your  wife — what  was  her  name,  I  mean — be- 
fore her  second  marriage?" 

"She  was  a  Mrs.  Cook." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Ashcroft,  and  hig  face 
lighted  up  with  surprise  and  intelligeace. 


278  Driven   horn   Home. 

"What  do  you  set?"  inquired  Dr.  Crawford. 

"I  thought  your  wife's  face  was  familiar. 
I  met  her  once  when  she  was  Mrs.  Cook." 

"You  knew  her,  then?" 

"No,  I  never  exchanged  a  <*ord  with  her  till 
f  met  her  under  this  roof. 

"How  can  I  tell  him  thai  I  first  saw  her 
when  a  visitor  to  the  penitentiary  among  the 
female  prisoners?"  Ashcroft  asked  himself. 
"My  poor  friend  would  sink  with  mortifica- 
tion." 

They  were  sitting  in  friendly  chat  ufler  their 
return  from  their  walk,  when  Mrs.  Crawford 
burst  into  the  room  in  evident  excitement. 

"Husband,"  she  cried,  "Peter  has  brought 
home  a  terrible  report.  He  has  heard  from 
a  person  who  has  just  come  from  Milford  that 
Carl  has  been  run  over  on  the  railroad  and 
instantly  killed !" 

Dr.  Crawford  turned  pale,  his  features 
worked  convulsively,  and  he  put  his  hand  to 
his  heart,  as  he  sank  back  in  his  chair,  his  face 
as  pale  as  the  dead. 

"Woman!"  said  Ashcroft,  sternly,  "I  believe 
you  have  killed  your  husband!" 

"Oh,  don't  say  that!  How  could  I  be  so 
imprudent?"  said  Mrs.  Crawford,  clasping  her 
hands,  and  counterfeiting  distress. 

Ashcroft  set  himself  at  once  to  save  his 
friend  from  the  result  of  the  shock. 


Driven    from    Home.  279 

"Leave  the  room !"  he  said,  sternly,  to  Mrs. 
Crawford. 

"Why  should  I?    I  am  his  wife." 

"And  have  sought  to  be  his  murderer.  You 
know  that  he  has  heart  disease.  Mrs. — Cook, 
I  know  more  about  you  than  you  suppose." 

.Mrs.  Crawford's  color  receded. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said.  She 
had  scarcely  reached  the  door,  when  there  was 
a  sound  of  footsteps  outside  and  Carl  dashed 
into  the  room,  nearly  upsetting  his  step- 
mother. 

"You  here?"  she  said,  frigidly. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  my  father?"  asked 
Carl. 

"Are  you  Carl?"  said  Ashcroft,  quickly. 

"Yes." 

"Your  father  has  had  a  shock.  I  think  I 
can  soon  bring  him  to." 

A  few  minutes  later  Dr.  Crawford  opened 
his  eyes. 

"Are  you  feeling  better,  Paul?"  asked  Ash- 
croft, anxiously. 

"Didn't  I  hear  something  about  Carl — some- 
thing terrible?" 

"Carl  is  alive  and  well,"  said  he,  soothingly. 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  asked  Dr.  Craw- 
ford, in  excitement. 

"Yes,  I  have  the  best  evidence  of  it.  Here 
is  Carl  himself." 


280  Driven   from   Home. 

Carl  came  forward  and  was  clasped  in  his 
father's  arms. 

"Thank  Heaven,  you  are  alive,"  he  said. 

"Why  should  I  not  be?"  asked  Carl,  bewil- 
dered, turning  to  Ash  croft. 

"Your  stepmother  had  the — let  me  say  im- 
prudence, to  tell  your  father  that  you  had  been 
killed  on  the  railroad." 

"Where  could  she  have  heard  such  a  report?" 

"I  am  not  sure  that  she  heard  it  at  all,"  said 
Ashcroft,  in  a  low  voice.  "She  knew  that  your 
father  had  heart  disease." 


CHAPTER   XL. 

CONCLUSION. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Crawford  re-entered 
the  room. 

"What  brings  you  here?"  she  demanded, 
coolly,  of  Carl. 

"I  came  here  because  this  is  my  father's 
house,  madam." 

"You  have  behaved  badly  to  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Crawford.  "You  have  defied  my  authority, 
and  brought  sorrow  and  distress  to  your  good 
father.  I  thought  you  would  have  the  good 
sense  to  stay  away." 


Driven   from    Home.  281 

"Do  you  indorse  this,  father?1'  asked  Car], 
turning  to  Dr.  Crawford. 

"No!"  answered  his  father,  with  unwonted 
energy.     "My  house  will  always  he  your  home." 

"You  seem  to  have  changed  your  mind,  Dr. 
Crawford,"  sneered  his  wife. 

"Where  did  you  pick  up  the  report  of  Carl's 
being  killed  on  the  railroad?"  asked  the  doc- 
tor, sternly. 

"Peter  heard  it  in  the  village,"  said  Mrs. 
Crawford,  carelessly. 

"Did  it  occur  to  you  that  the  sudden  news 
might  injure  your  husband?"  asked  Ashcroft. 

"I  spoke  too  impulsively.  I  realize  too  late 
my  imprudence,"  said  Mrs.  Crawford,  coolly. 
"Have  you  lost  your  place?"  she  asked,  ad 
dressing  Carl. 

"No.     I  have  just  returned  from  Chicago." 

His  stepmother  looked  surprised. 

"We  have  had  a  quiet  time  since  you  left 
us,"  she  said.  "If  you  value  your  father's 
health  and  peace  of  mind,  you  will  not  remain 
here." 

"Is  my  presence  also  unwelcome?"  asked 
Ashcroft. 

"You  have  not  treated  me  with  respect,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Crawford.  "If  you  are  a  gentle- 
man, you  will  understand  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances it  will  be  wise  for  you  to  take  your 
departure." 


282  Driven    from    Home, 

"Leaving  my  old  friend  to  your  care?" 

"Yes,  that  will  be  best." 

"Mr.  Ashcroft,  can  I  have  a  few  minutes' 
conversation  with  you?"  asked  Carl. 

"Certainly." 

They  left  the  room  together,  followed  by  an 
uneasy  and  suspicious  glance  from  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford. 

Carl  hurriedly  communicated  to  his  father's 
friend  what  he  had  learned  about  his  step- 
mother. 

"Mr.  Cook,  Peter's  father,  is  just  outside," 
he  said.     "Shall  I  call  him  in?" 

"I  think  we  had  better  do  so,  but  arrange 
that  the  interview  shall  take  place  without 
your  father's  knowledge.  He  must  not  be  ex- 
cited. Call  him  in,  and  then  summon  your 
stepmother." 

"Mrs.  Crawford,"  said  Carl,  re-entering  his 
father's  room,  "Mr.  Ashcroft  would  like  to 
have  a  few  words  with  you.  Can  you  come 
out?" 

She  followed  Carl  uneasily. 

"What  is  it  you  want  with  me,  sir?"  she 
asked,  frigidly. 

"Let  me  introduce  an  old  acquaintance  of 
yours." 

Mr.  Cook,  whom  Mrs.  Crawford  had  not  at 
first  observed,  came  forward.  She  drew  back 
in  dismay. 


Driven    from   Home.  283 

"It  is  some  time  since  we  met,  Lucy,"  said 
Cook,  quietly. 

"Do  you  come  here  to  make  trouble?"  she 
muttered,  hoarsely. 

"I  come  to  ask  for  the  property  you  took 
during  my  absence  in  California,"  he  said.  "I 
don't  care  to  have  you  return  to  me " 

"I  obtained  a  divorce." 

"Precisely;  I  don't  care  to  annul  it.  I  am 
thankful  that  you  are  no  longer  my  wife." 

"I — I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  you.  Don't 
go  near  my  present  husband.  He  is  in  poor 
health,  and  cannot  bear  a  shock." 

"Mrs.  Crawford,"  said  Ashcroft,  gravely,  "if 
you  have  any  idea  of  remaining  here,  in  this 
house,  give  it  up.  I  shall  see  that  your  hus- 
band's eyes  are  opened  to  your  real  charac- 
ter." 

"Sir,  you  heard  this  man  say  that  he  has  no 
claim  upon  me." 

"That  may  be,  but  I  cannot  permit  my  friend 
to  harbor  a  woman  whose  record  is  as  bad  as 
yours." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded,  de- 
fiantly. 

"I  mean  that  you  have  served  a  term  in 
prison  for  larceny." 

"II  is  false,"  she  said,  with  trembling  lips. 

"It  is  true.  I  visited  the  prison  during  your 
term  of  confinement,  and  saw  you  there." 


284  Driven    from    Home. 

"I,  too,  can  certify  to  it,"  said  Cook.  "1 
learned  it  two  years  after  my  marriage.  You 
will  understand  why  I  am  glad  of  the  divorce.'' 

Mrs.  Crawford  was  silent  for  a  moment.  She 
realized  that  the  battle  was  lost. 

"Well,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "I  am  de- 
feated. I  thought  my  secret  was  safe,  but  I 
uas  mistaken.  What  do  you  propose  to  do 
with  me?" 

"I  will  tell  you  this  evening,"  said  Ashcroft. 
"One  thing  I  can  say  now — you  must  not  ex- 
pect to  remain  in  this  house." 

"I  no  longer  care  to  do  so." 

A  conference  was  held  during  the  afternoon, 
Dr  Crawford  being  told  as  much  as  was  es- 
sential. It  was  arranged  that  Mrs.  Crawford 
should  have  an  allowance  of  four  hundred  dol- 
lars for  herself  and  Peter  if  she  would  leave 
the  house  quietly,  and  never  again  annoy  her 
husband.  Mr.  Cook  offered  to  take  Peter,  but 
the  latter  preferred  to  remain  with  his  mother. 
A  private  arrangement  was  made  by  which  Dr. 
Crawford  made  up  to  Mr.  Cook  one-half  of  the 
sum  stolen  from  him  by  his  wife,  and  through 
the  influence  of  Ashcroft,  employment  was 
found  for  him.  He  is  no  longer  a  tramp,  but 
a  man  held  in  respect,  and  moderately  pros- 
perous. 

Carl  is  still  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Jennings, 
and  his  father  has  removed  to  Milford,  where 


Driven    from    Home.  285 

he  and  his  son  can  live  together.  Next  Sep- 
tember, on  his  twenty-first  birthday,  Carl  will 
be  admitted  to  a  junior  partnership  in  the 
business,  his  father  furnishing  the  necessary 
capital.  Carl's  stepmother  is  in  Chicago,  and 
her  allowance  is  paid  to  her  quarterly  through 
a  Chicago  bank.  She  has  considerable  trou- 
ble with  Peter,  who  has  become  less  submissive 
as  he  grows  older,  and  is  unwilling  to  settle 
down  to  steady  work.  His  prospects  do  not 
look  very  bright. 

Mr.  Jennings  and  Hannah  are  as  much  at- 
tached as  ever  to  Carl,  and  it  is  quite  likely  the 
manufacturer  will  make  him  his  heir.  Happy 
in  the  society  of  his  son,  Dr.  Crawford  is  likely 
to  live  to  a  good  old  age,  in  spite  of  his  weak- 
ness and  tendency  to  heart  disease,  for  hap- 
piness is  a  great  aid  to  longevity. 


THE  END. 


